A Man Among Men
by invisible pawprint
Summary: An exploration of what might have happened if Maurice had thought carefully about the villagers' reactions to the Beast. Gaston takes the lead in the search and Maurice starts to wonder if the village's favourite 'man among men' could be steered by some paternal advice.
1. Chapter 1 A Man Among Men

_Belle, his little Belle, shut up in the prison of a monster._ Stumbling through the cold village, Maurice's mind was whirling with ideas, crazy, useless ideas, to rescue Belle, quickly discarded. _An appeal to the King to send an army?_ No, who would believe such a letter? It would be dismissed as the rantings of a lunatic.

Stretching a shaking hand out to the nearest doorway, he fought for breath. The chill of the small stone cell still hadn't left him. It was bleak beyond belief, a little stone window open to the freezing air, and nothing but a pile of old straw to curl up in at night. Tears of memory closed his throat at the thought of his brave girl taking his place in imprisonment.

 _A machine to distract the monster as he snuck into the castle to free Belle?_ No, such plans needed aid - more than an old man could achieve on his own. He needed aid to find her, to free her... _assistance from the good people of Villeneuve?_ But who would follow an old man, already thought to be going out of his wits, into wolf-infested woods?

When he looked up again, he saw a shaft of light warm the muddy ground as men made their way into the tavern for the evening. The tallest of the men carried a musket over his shoulder.

 _Captain Gaston?_ Rumor had it that he had eyes only for Belle. Certainly some flowers had appeared on the table and Belle had seemed distracted over the last few days. Maurice knew the man by reputation as a captain of at least eight years' experience in the army and a competent hunter. He was unquestionably a popular man around and about. No-one would believe a madman ranting about a castle and a monster but wolves and the cold were real enough and there was a strong man who might love Belle well enough to follow her trail to its destination. His mind made up, Maurice plunged into the tavern.

The tavern was already filling up as workers downed their first pints and warmed themselves against the chilly early evening by a roaring fire.

'Help! I need help! Messieurs, please help me…my daughter is lost!' Men and women stopped where they were, mugs suspended in mid aid, jaws dropped with astonishment.

'Belle is lost in the woods.' Now Maurice was back in the warm, he found himself shaking and coughing. 'I was returning from the c-city w-when my horse threw me in the w-woods and bolted. Philippe, he, he smelled wolves. He must have bolted for h-home.' He drew a deep breath. 'When I made my way back, the house was dark and empty with all things left in a hurry….'

'I did hear a horse go by fast', put in a farmhand. 'Just when I was up in Monsieur Henri's fields.'

'Yes! Surely that was her.' Maurice clutched at the edge of the bar, coughing and women crowded around him clucking sympathetically. 'Poor old man' and 'Here, get him a drink to get his breath back.' Still red in the face with his coughs, Maurice looked up at the tallest man. Instinctively, the crowd turned to him too.

'Belle is lost in the woods?' he cried. 'Why, then we must rescue her!' Springing up onto a table, his gaze swept the room. 'Come, good people! It is a matter for all men to rescue a girl from danger.' The women hurrahed with approval but more than a few men shrank back, muttering, 'Aye, but there's wolves and that' and 'Alright for him to say but it'll be night in no time at all.'

Fixing the dissenters with a piercing eye, the Captain continued to exhort them. 'If it was your own daughters…or wives…who were lost, wouldn't you look for help from your friends?' This seemed to win most of the men over and when the Captain promised to stand pints for all men who joined the search party, the crowd was his entirely.

'Women! Search the village! Perhaps she is close by, lost or hiding. Men! We gather in the Square in five minutes!' Gaston leaped lightly down, making his way through the crowd to Maurice. His eyes were bright.

'Sir. I swear that I will restore Belle to you safely. You should wait here and recover.'

Before Gaston could turn away, Maurice caught his sleeve. 'I…I cannot thank you enough, Captain.' He reached out and gripped his hand, briefly remembering the days when he had been young and in love. 'But I cannot stay here while Belle is in danger. I will search until my strength goes.'

The captain gave him with a distinctly military look of one appraising resources and strategies. 'Le Fou!' he bellowed over the heads of the crowd. 'Three cloaks and get my crossbow. Sir,' he turned back to Maurice. 'Can you ride now?'


	2. Chapter 2 Lost Without Trace

In the stables, Gaston and his friend threw saddles and bridles onto three horses with practiced speed. In no time at all, Maurice found himself legged up onto a sturdy cob, a borrowed cloak on his back and at the head of a cavalcade striking out towards the woods.

The woods resounded to calls of Belle's name for the better part of two hours until the shadows lengthened and men began to stumble. Small stars grew clearer in the darkening skies. In despair of chancing across the hidden castle and deeply conscious of the well-meaning lies he had told, Maurice hunched over the saddle bow. His own voice was hoarse from crying Belle's name, knowing all along that she could not hear him. Nothing on their trail was familiar from Philippe's frantic bolt through the woods and he could not even be sure that they were heading in the right direction. He no longer truly trusted his own sense of direction although Gaston assured him they were heading towards the Great West Road on which Maurice had ridden home from the market.

When the shadows grew too long, the Captain reassembled the men on the main path to the village.

'There has been no sign of Belle nor of any wolves. Men, return to the village. Perhaps Belle has found another way home. Go now, and you will be back safely before the last light goes. If she has gone any further in this direction, Magnifique and I', he patted the powerful black neck', will find her.'

This brought a cheer from the men and a general turning towards home with some genuine reluctance and a jokey, 'What about that pint, then?' flung over the butcher's shoulder. Dead leaves crunched underfoot as the men headed home.

Gaston grinned cheerfully, white teeth flashing. 'When I return!' he promised. He gestured Maurice to accompany them.

Maurice shook his head, straightening his shoulders. 'Sir - _Sirs'_ \- he remembered the stocky little Le Fou who was also waiting - 'It would be criminal of men to drag you further. You have searched hard and you have, I think, already been hunting all day.' he swayed slightly in the saddle but pulled himself upright, remembering his dignity. 'I will go alone - if you will trust me with this fellow for a while longer.' The cob seemed patient enough and unlikely to bolt for home with even an exhausted rider.

'I said I would bring Belle back to you,' the captain returned, shortening his grip on the reins. 'And I will. Do you think that a ride of a few hours would make me forget my promise?' His jaw was tight and his chin raised high.

'I'll stay here too', piped up Le Fou. 'After all,' he looked around, 'three heads are better than two.'

They rode in single file along the narrow path, ducking to avoid the near invisible branches that threatened to sweep them straight out of the saddle. Maurice rode last, his old eyes straining to see in the gloom. Gaston, although the tallest by far, seemed to have the vision of a cat. Maurice learned to watch the shadowy figure. Le Fou - what a curious name that was - although far shorter inevitably took several branches straight to the face. What a strange partnership. On the face of it, they had nothing in common and yet the whole village knew they were great friends, rarely seen out of each other's company and at home in each other's houses.

The search went on well into true night. When it became too dark to see, Gaston and Le Fou lit brushwood torches with tinderboxes. The torches cast gigantic, warped shadows onto the trees until Maurice despaired of recognizing the train towards the mysterious castle from his frantic ride with Philippe. A crooked tree looked desperately familiar but surely it had been lying on its side when he saw it. It couldn't be the same, _he couldn't be sure._ Around them, an autumn chill set in with a thick damp mist that soaked into the heavy frieze of their cloaks and left beaded drops on their eyelashes. As they rode through a dripping clearing between the trees, Maurice shivered violently and coughed again, a wracking fit that almost made him lose his grip on the reins. Le Fou shook the water from his hood and cloak like a little dog and yawned openly. Up ahead, the captain halted the big, long-striding Magnifique and dropped to the ground, jamming the torch into the ground.

'We'll make camp here for a few hours,' he announced. 'Rest the horses, get a fire going.'

Obedient to the implied command, Le Fou scrambled out of the saddle and landed clumsily. His horse laid its ears flat and promptly shook its mane into the little man's face.

'I've got to get to Belle.' Maurice could hardly speak through the exhaustion and the cold and the constant pain that tugged at his chest. 'My little girl.' He struggled to find words that wouldn't say _she's in a castle cell and her jailor is a monstrous beast_. 'She's in great danger.'

The captain laid a firm hand on his shoulder.

'I know', he said.

'You do?' Maurice wondered for a moment if Gaston had hunted so widely in these woods that perhaps he too had stumbled across the castle before.

'But wolves can't climb trees.' Gaston looked pleased. 'At least she can wait up a tree overnight. And besides' he went on, 'I'll bring the wolves to us.' He caught up the cob's bridle, anchoring horse and rider like a rock. ''Don't worry about anything', he said. 'Belle won't thank us for bringing you back dead.'

 _Oh Helene, what have I done?_ Maurice wordlessly allowed himself to be helped out of the saddle. _Our daughter is trapped by a beast and here am I and two young men about to become wolf bait._ 'What do you mean, sir, bring the wolves to us?'

Leaving the two other men to prepare the camp, Gaston prowled in unerring circles around them, circling and returning, examining the ground for trails. On his final circle, there was a sudden volley of shots and a scuffle of small creatures fleeing for their lives. The captain returned to camp swinging a brace of rabbits in one hand. Le Fou, who had, Maurice found, been a soldier for as long as the captain, established a fire quite quickly despite the rotten dampness of the wood. When the horses were made as comfortable as possible with their riders' coats thrown over them, the men sat down to their hasty meal. The woods were filled with the rustling and dripping of branches and the patter of nocturnal creatures but of wolves - and greater beasts - there was no sign.


	3. Chapter 3 If There Are Wolves Nearby

'If there _are_ wolves nearby…' Maurice began.

'I don't think Mon Ami likes the word _wolves_ ' put in Le Fou. He was trying to ease a tangled knot out of his horses' forelock. His horse, confirming this, shifted restlessly, shouldering Le Fou backwards.

'…what will we do?'

Gaston looked up from sharpening the point on a long stake. His musket and crossbow were propped against the tree behind him, protected from the rain by his cloak. He pushed a few strands of loose dark hair out of his eyes in way that suddenly reminded Maurice of Belle.

'The wolves should come for us and not for Belle because of this,' he pointed to the small pile of cooked and gutted animal remains from their meal, arranged outside the little clearing but just inside the circle of light shed by the fire. 'When they come,' he picked up his musket and mimed firing it. 'Le Fou reloads', he paused for emphasis, 'and you stay back with the horses.' He finished off the stake. 'If they get through us, let them run onto this.' A couple of damp but serviceable brushwood torches were stuck in the ground by the fire as a last resort.

When the preparations were complete, the three men settled down to take turns to rest and watch. It struck Maurice that they had probably been up before dawn to hunt in the woods all day. The horses were already half asleep, noses dropping low to the ground. The fire smoked heavily but drove back the bitter cold of the night. The two younger men declined Maurice's offer to take a share of the watch and split the task between them. Maurice couldn't exactly blame them. The shadows were playing tricks with his eyes and his ears weren't what they used to be.

Le Fou took the first hour but Maurice found himself unable to sleep. _How soon we grow old. Where did the years go?_ He remembered happy years in Paris with his wife and then their beautiful little girl too. Then the pain of seeing Helene fade away before his eyes. The empty life in their little house where Helene used to sing and smile. A move to Villeneuve where Belle could grow up in the fresh air. Finally, happy years in their little cottage with his sweet, clever little girl growing up and every year a fresh delight. His inventions never fetched much money from the little provincial markets but with the chickens and goat and Belle's little vegetable patch, they had enough for their needs. Did the future hold marriage for Belle? He hoped so but only to a man worthy of her.

Was Captain Gaston worthy of Belle? Le Fou was staring fixedly into the woods so Maurice allowed his gaze to drift over to the sleeping captain. He knew a little, only a little that was definite about the man. In the markets of Villeneuve and its larger neighbours, the stall holders gossiped openly about the hero of Villeneuve.

The men spoke about his success in the wars and his skill at hunting. 'He's not afraid of anything, you know. Even bears.' 'Such a man', the women said. 'Such a man. He can do anything.' The women liked to compare him to their less useful husbands. 'Gaston would have ridden thirty miles in a snowstorm to fetch a doctor…my Robert wouldn't ride five.' 'Gaston could have fixed that leaking roof. Over the roofs like a cat, he is. My Henri can hardly climb a ladder.' The girls who helped their mamas and papas at the stalls, strong, capable farm girls, whispered to each other about his smile and endless good looks and how he had lifted a barrel _this_ heavy down from the wagon to help them, chased off a would-be thief or lifted them over the deep muddy puddles in the road. 'He swung me right over as if I didn't weigh no more than a feather' one girl had sworn with solemn, round eyes to her friends.

Maurice himself had had little to do with the Captain. Their paths rarely crossed. Maurice went to the tavern only at the furthest of intervals, preferring to spend his evenings with Belle in their cosy cottage than walk a mile to the tavern. He had few friends there anyway. Reclusive by nature, Maurice had not found many people with whom he could enjoy a lively conversation. The folk of Villeneuve were, in general, farmers and small traders whose interests rarely took them outside their own small circle. It struck him that he was probably sitting with the two best travelled men in the village. _Perhaps Belle might enjoy a conversation about other countries over dinner_ he thought before shaking his head immediately. They had to rescue Belle first.

As Maurice shook his head, Le Fou looked up, gazed around again anxiously and scuttled around the fire to shake Gaston by the shoulder. Gaston awoke instantly, eyes alert and bright.

'No sign?'

"Nothing.' Le Fou sat down again, this time closer to his big friend, and threw another piece of wood into the smoking fire. He yawned heavily, rubbed his eyes where the smoke made them smart and looked across at Maurice as if they were in the tavern and the conversation had fallen quiet for a moment.

'Belle's quite young, still, isn't she?'

'She was eighteen in summer.' Maurice appreciated the civility of Le Fou's effort to distract his thoughts. He seemed to be a well-meaning man under the nervousness and in return he did his best to keep the conversation going.

'Do you remember her before you left for the war, Monsieur?'

'Please…call me Le Fou _._ Everyone does.' He gave it some thought. 'Yes, surely you were here before we left for the war.'

'I can hardly call you that, Monsieur', Maurice protested. 'Why, it sounds…well….a nickname. A nickname that has to be earned,' he finished, rather pleased at having found a civil ending to the sentence.

He looked around at both men. 'I realize I hardly know either of you, Messieurs,' he said honestly. 'Although everyone knows me as Maurice, Belle and I are Bonneaus. Maurice Bonneau at your service,' he finished politely.

Gaston smiled with that sudden, charming smile of his. 'Jean-Luc Gaston, Monsieur Bonneau. There might be a dozen Jean-Lucs around here…but there is only one Gaston.' He grinned.

'Etienne Louis Florent Dupre,' Le Fou supplied with a little flourish. He smiled shyly. 'It's easy to call me _Le Fou._ I've been called it since I was little. Certainly at school, wasn't I?' he turned to Gaston.

'Oh yes, definitely at school.' Gaston rubbed his hands and grinned reminiscently. 'We were always in some sort of trouble at school but Le Fou was the only one the master ever beat for not remembering his name.'

'Ooh, that stick of his,' Le Fou was instantly back in the memory. 'He couldn't stand any of us.' He yawned again and leaned forward with his head on his knees. 'He was such a…such a devil…..' His voice trailed off into deeper breathing.

Gaston surveyed the forest again and reached across to check the power and string of his weapons. He was still grinning and seemed on the verge of saying something to continue the story but Maurice leaped hastily into the gap, an unfinished thread of conversation very much on his mind.

'Do you know Belle well?'

The Captain seemed slightly taken aback by the abrupt change but lit up with animation at the mention of Belle.

'Not as well as I'd like to,' he answered. 'She stands out, you know.' He leaned forward intently. 'There's something about her that's so _different_ to all the other girls. Something they don't have.'

Maurice admitted this silently as a point in the young man's favour. Belle was special and that wasn't just a fond father's opinion. Other people saw it too.

'She was always spirited', he affirmed. 'Sometimes I wonder,' he said, choosing his words carefully, 'whether I did the right thing bringing Belle here after Helene died. We lived close to Paris and people said the air was bad. She is so much like her, you know…' he trailed off for a moment, Helene's face bright in his mind.

He looked at the dark haired young man. 'She meant the world to me. Our house,' he waved a hand, 'you should have seen our house. It was only a simple life but Helene made it the centre of France.' He smiled. 'She would sing and we would talk about everything in the world. She cared for everything. It was what made her so special. Belle is so very like her.'

He looked at Gaston to make sure he was paying attention. 'It's her interest in the whole world which makes her so special. It's why she reads.'

He saw the change come over Gaston's face as he took in the idea.

'She wants to know more about the world,' he repeated slowly. 'We could…do you think she would like to travel?'

'I think she would,' Maurice agreed. 'Why don't you ask her one day?'

Gaston beamed.

'Perhaps she'd like me to tell her about Portugal,' he suggested. 'Just the better parts, of course,' he added hastily.

'I think that she'd like to _talk_ about Portugal,' Maurice said carefully. 'We always talk about the things I've seen when I come back from the markets.'

'Do you…bring her books from the market?' Gaston asked.

'Alas, no. I'm afraid that my trading only brings us enough for our necessities. I believe Belle borrows books from Pere Robert. My own few are rather technical in nature.'

He looked across at the handsome young man.

'She asked for a rose, you know,' he said quietly. 'That's all.'

'Does she like roses?'

Maurice had a sudden vision of the house besieged by flowers.

'She values very little things which were chosen with thought and love.'

Gaston nodded thoughtfully but the silence between them grew long and deep. Maurice stretched his shoulders, trying to breathe properly in the chilly damp air. He suppressed the urge to tell the young man to put his coat on or a cloak. How many times had he had to chase after Belle when she was younger, telling her to put her cloak on or she would catch a cold.

'She was always a caring girl,' he said. 'From the moment she could speak.' He looked across at the younger man. 'Do you remember her as a little girl?'

Gaston stared into the fire for a while, trying to remember.

'You had a dog, didn't you, when you first came?' he frowned with concentration. 'Or was it Laurette? No, it was your cottage, I'm sure. When it got lost one day I found it and brought it back to you.' He sat back, looking pleased with himself. 'And when Belle got her little kite stuck in a tree, I fetched it for her.' The fire crackled and spat between them. 'How strange,' he went on thoughtfully. 'I didn't think I had seen her before and yet I've known her since she was a little girl. Why, we're practically old friends.'

Maurice thought that that might be stretching couple of kind moments from an older boy to a little girl too far but he kept that opinion to himself. Surely if the Captain thought of Belle as a friend, it could only increase his kindness to her. Try as he might, though, he couldn't remember the face of the boy who had brought Chien back to their cottage. Only that it was one of the village boys, dark-haired and broad-shouldered, who had knelt down in front of the six year old and gently handed back the missing puppy.

'Well, that was very kind of you,' Maurice began. 'It's the little things like that which Belle appreciates most. Belle loved that little dog. She loves all animals, you know, especially Phili - '

He got no further for the first of the wolves crashed through the trees, teeth already drawn back, poised to spring at the three men.


	4. Chapter 4 Into the Darkness

**Thanks very much for all the reviews! I really appreciate the comments and thoughts about Maurice and Gaston.**

Gaston sprang to his feet and snatched up the musket. At the same moment as the large wolf hurled itself at him, the musket was raised and fired with a sharp crack that brought Le Fou sharply to his feet and set the horses skittering and dragging at their halters. The body of the wolf hit Gaston in the chest, teeth and claws still bared in death. He shouldered it off instantly and grabbed the crossbow, flinging the musket back to Le Fou. He sighted and shot into the darkness beyond the clearing and another wolf fell with a choking whine.

'Get back to the horses!' he gestured Maurice back with his free hand as Le Fou handed him the musket again.

Two more adult wolves charged into the clearing, one springing for Maurice as he stumbled back towards the horses, the other hurling itself at Gaston. Without a second's hesitation, Gaston drove a booted foot into the fire, kicking burning embers into the face of the nearest wolf and in the same movement swung round, aimed _through_ the fire, shot the other wolf stone dead and completed the arc by clubbing the first animal with the musket. It was a powerful blow with the full weight of his shoulders behind it and the wolf staggered back for a second.

Dropping the gun and snatching up a knife from his belt, Gaston leaped forward, a dark shape against the firelight as Maurice pulled up the sharpened stake to protect the horses. Magnifique was quivering for action but remained stock still, the dark cob was skittering back and whinnying with distress but it was the wolf-hating Mon Ami, who caused the problem.

Rearing back at the fire and the smell of the wolves' blood, the frightened horse tore the tether loose and bucked madly to fight free of the other two, delivering a powerful kick into Magnifique's chest. The bigger beast reared back to deliver a punishing blow with his front hooves but the gap in the milling horses was created and the little Mon Ami leaped for freedom.

Galloping round the fire, reins flying, the horse almost stumbled straight onto Gaston who at that moment succeeded in driving the knife deep into the wolf's chest, kneeling over it, hand and knees holding the razor sharp claws and teeth away from him. As Mon Ami thundered towards them, Gaston dropped flat to the ground beside the dying wolf and the horse scrambled over them, heavy hooves a few inches over their heads. Unrestrained for a second, the dying wolf managed to turn its head and bite Gaston powerfully on the forearm before the light went out of its eyes.

The night was suddenly quiet again, broken only by the distant crashing of bushes as Mon Ami charged through the forest. Gaston pushed himself up heavily, putting a foot on the dead wolf to draw back the knife. Le Fou set the freshly loaded musket carefully against a tree.

Suddenly, Gaston froze, not with fear but with intent. Entirely still, he studied the darkness to the edges of the clearing, as poised and dangerous as the hunting wolves. For a second, something glittered close to the ground and then was gone.

Gaston took up the musket in one hand and lit a torch from the fire. He stalked towards the edge of the clearing, torch held low, blood dripping from his arm onto the musket. Then without warning he hurled himself forward, snarling, sweeping the torch in front of him. There was a scuffling of feet, a sudden volley of sharp yapping and howling and the noise of animals fleeing for their lives. Dropping the torch on the wet ground, he raised the gun, fired almost immediately. One of the howls cut off abruptly, the others disappeared into the distance.

Maurice and Le Fou hadn't had time to move as Gaston disappeared into the darkness and reappeared. They were both staring at him - Maurice glanced quickly across at Le Fou - yes, him too - with open mouths.

'Juveniles' Gaston explained briefly, nodding towards the disappearing pack. He tossed the musket back to Le Fou. 'I knew they'd run for their lives.' Maurice couldn't find any words to respond. All he could do was nod. The speed of the events had rendered him speechless. The sickness of shock, fear and relief were mixed with a certain amount of admiration for Gaston's bravery, concern that the young man had been injured and a grain of shame that as a man, he himself hadn't contributed to their protection.

Evidently, Gaston interpreted his stunned silence as a tribute. He grinned. 'What can I say? No one fights wolves like Gaston.'

'Yeah! You showed those wolves who was boss alright,' Le Fou crowed. 'They never knew what hit them. Pow! Pow!' he mimicked shooting the wolves in quick succession.

Something about Le Fou's clownish reaction to the death of the wolves awoke a disgust in Maurice. His gentle nature rebelled against celebrating the whole violent episode, even as he understood that Jean-Luc and Etienne had been trying to draw the wolves away from Belle.

Maurice cleared his throat. 'I'm very grateful that you drove them off, Captain, but I'm afraid you've been hurt.'

Gaston glanced down at the bloodstained sleeve.

'It's nothing.'

'May I see?'

Gaston drew back his bloodstained shirt sleeve to reveal a deep bite mark, sunk deep into his wrist.

'This looks rather serious.' Maurice managed to rip off the corner of his own shirt and began to wrap it around the injured wrist.

'It's just a scratch,' Gaston responded cheerfully. Their eyes met.

'You saved my life, you know' Maurice said simply. 'I am very much in your debt.'

'It was your lucky day you met me,' Gaston responded with equal sincerity.

'Mine, rather than yours, Maurice said dryly. 'I feel that it's all my fault you've been caught up in this.'

'Oh, I've never begrudged the odd scratch and scrape in a good cause. When I was in the War….'

Maurice forced himself to wait with an interested expression as Gaston leaped readily into an anecdote about the war. He barely heard a thing, consumed with guilt again that the desperate effort of luring wolves to their campsite had been for nothing as Belle lay in a stone cell in a castle.

'…and we took ten of them prisoner that night,' Gaston finished with a satisfied expression. Le Fou finished reloading the weapons and straightened up.

'Shouldn't we look for Mon Ami, Gaston?' Le Fou turned to Maurice. 'He didn't get bitten, did he?'

'No, I think he was only afraid.' Maurice looked at Gaston. 'I think he kicked your horse, though, I'm afraid.'

Gaston felt Magnifique carefully on the chest and ran a hand down his legs. His horse nudged affectionately at his shoulder.

'He's left a mark, alright,' Gaston grumbled. 'Nothing serious, luckily.' He rubbed the horse on the forehead until it leaned in with pleasure. 'Curse that little coward of yours, Le Fou. We'd better track him down.'

The three men surveyed the camp site. It looked like a battle scene, with the dark, bulky bodies of wolves strewn across the ground. For a moment all three were silent, lost in separate thoughts. Maurice was the first to recover, tightening girths and gently encouraging the horses to take the bits. Le Fou kicked at the fire until it broke up into dying embers on the damp ground. Finally, Gaston broke out of his reverie and hoisted the five dead wolves into the nearest tree, explaining that they would return for the fur later. The sight of the dead wolves hanging limply in a tree was decidedly macabre.

Maurice was glad when the short preparations were over and Le Fou was just lighting the torches from the last of the fire.

Finally, they were away, leading the two tired horses, following the path of destruction through the woods. Unencumbered by a horse, Le Fou trotted alongside Gaston. Behind them, leading the patient cob, Maurice listened to their conversation. It sounded like a familiar argument. Even the indomitable Gaston sounded increasingly weary.

'You should get yourself a better horse. That beast of yours is a menace.'

'He's just afraid of wolves. He's as brave as a lion with anything else.'

Gaston gave a short laugh. 'He bolted with you through the village when Clothilde's goat got loose.' He chuckled at the memory.

'He's sensitive, that's all. Anyway, he won't run far. He needs his papa.'

'He wants his food,' Gaston disagreed. 'You make an idiot of that horse and see where it gets you. He picked his way carefully down a slope.

'I wouldn't sell him for the world.'

'No-one would buy him.'

'He won't have gone far. If we don't find him soon, I'll eat my hat.'

'He's too fat to keep run -' Gaston broke off. 'What's that?'

'What's what?' Le Fou stopped too, squinting into the darkness as Maurice came up alongside them.

'I saw a light - come on!' Gaston set off with renewed energy, leaving Maurice and Le Fou trailing in his wake.

As they drew nearer, an enormous dark shape loomed up around them. Patches of moonlight lit high stone walls that were covered by heavy brambles. Maurice's heart caught in his throat. The castle at last!

The missing Mon Ami stood shivering, tangled up in a thick bush and Le Fou hurried forward to unravel him, stroking his mane and praising him for staying still. It came to Maurice in a surreal haze of exhaustion that perhaps the castle could only be found by creatures who were fleeing from other dangers.

'What castle is this?' Le Fou asked in confusion. 'There's never been a castle in these woods, has there?'

Maurice managed a believable expression of doubt. 'Does it belong to the Duke?' The Duke governed their region, albeit loosely, for which they were all thankful.

'I've never heard of anything here,' Gaston put in although he was frowning again with fierce concentration, as if trying to remember an old story.

Their ignorance about the castle made it appear more sinister to Maurice. Somehow even men who had grown up in the region and hunted widely in its woods had never heard so much as rumors of an enormous castle buried deep in the forest.

'How can there be something so _big_ here and nobody knew about it?' he asked.

'A good question,' Gaston responded. He surveyed the castle suspiciously, mouth set in a grim line.

'Perhaps it's abandoned,' Le Fou suggested. The castle towered above them, dark and brooding.

'I saw a light,' Gaston insisted. 'Besides', he gestured at the tangle of hoof prints on the ground, 'a second horse has been here.' He squared his shoulders. 'It must be Belle.'


	5. Chapter 5 To the Castle

**Thanks again for the reviews! I really appreciate everyone's thoughts about the story and their relationships.**

'I can see the light from here!'

Philippe's trail had led them around to the main gate, a towering construction of dark and twisted iron. Maurice laid a hand on the gate, remembering how he had pushed it open boldly to escape the storm and wolves, confident that the owner of the castle would be content to shelter him.

'Do you think it's Belle? Le Fou joined him on one side, Gaston on the other.

'It must be.' Gaston unlatched the gate and shoved at it with all his strength. Nothing happened. He narrowed his eyes and felt along the inside of the gate more carefully.

'It's barred.'

Maurice sagged, the cold and tiredness and pain in his chest catching up with him again. The monster must have barred the gate solidly to prevent just such a rescue attempt as this. His chest hurt and he rubbed it, coughing again.

'Here, hold him.' Maurice looked up in time to see Gaston pass Magnifique to Le Fou and spring up the gate like a cat. They watched as Gaston climbed powerfully upwards, never seeming to miss a grip on the wet iron, and disappear down the far side.

Maurice turned to Le Fou.

'Does he never get tired?'

'Never,' said Le Fou proudly. 'Never in the middle of any action.' He beamed.

On the far side of the gate, there were a couple of thumps as Gaston tossed down the heavy bars and then the gate was open.

The patchy moonlight gave enough light to see Philippe's prints leading like an arrow down the main causeway. Dousing the torches, the three men followed them silently to the foot of the castle walls. The main door proved to be locked and bolted against intruders and so they followed the walls around to the only sign of life in the towering castle. Far above them, the little candle was flickering in the open window. Standing directly below it, looking up at the steep stone walls, it was almost impossible to see.

'I'm sure it's Belle', Maurice whispered. 'If only I could get a message to her - I could throw something into the room for her to read to tell her to open the door -'

'- You could wrap a message around an arrow and Gaston could shoot it into the room,' Le Fou offered excitedly.

'It's too dangerous!' Maurice snapped. 'What if she's standing next to the window?'

'Maurice is right.' Gaston always seemed to have the last word in a discussion. 'But I can get a message to her.'

'How?' The other two stared at him.

In answer, Gaston shrugged off his coat and flexed his shoulders.

'No one climbs like Gaston,' he told them with a sudden flash of his famous smile.

'Please, Captain….Monsieur…. _Jean-Luc_ , don't do this,' Maurice begged. The castle walls looked almost sheer from this angle and slippery with the autumn dampness. 'This is too dangerous! There must be another way; it would be terrible if you were to fall.'

The young man looked down on him with exultant self-confidence and buoyed up energy at the prospect of danger.

'I never fall,' he said simply.

Then he was off, digging the toe of a boot firmly into a small crack in the stone, reaching up for an unseen hand hold in the darkness, catching an outcropping of stone and hauling himself up hand over hand.

Maurice and Le Fou watched him from below, hearts in their mouths.

A piece of stonework crumbled in his grasp and came tumbling down the walls to smack at their feet. Gaston slid down, flattened against the wall, hands clawing for the slightest grip. He caught the foot of a gargoyle and wrenched himself sideways, swinging from a single hand grip thirty feet in the air before he managed to find a hold, first with one foot and then the other. Maurice stepped back. Surely he was almost level with the window, yes, there was the light and there Gaston just managed to stretch one long arm up to the windowsill and pull himself into the room. Was there anyone else there? Yes, Maurice could see another dark figure, silhouetted against the little light, looking out of the window.

It was almost too high to see but Maurice thought he could make out a delicate pale face. Suddenly, the face and the little candle disappeared and Maurice stepped back to Le Fou, shaking with relief.

'She's gone away - they must be coming down -'

'She must be,' Le Fou interrupted. 'But Gaston is _climbing_ down again.'

 _Oh why is that young men think nothing can ever hurt them_ Maurice cursed to himself. If watching the ascent had been terrifying, seeing the young man drop and slide from the windowsill was worse. The entire descent was a series of heart stopping skids from hold to hold which culminated in a mad slide down twenty feet of wet stone wall and ended in Gaston dropping to the ground like a cat at their feet.

'That was _amazing_ ' Le Fou burst out.'

'I know,' Gaston interjected smugly.

'What a man! No-one climbs like you. Wait till they hear about _this_ in the tavern.'

'What can I say?' he spread his hands with a sparkling smile. 'I'm just that good at things.' He looked at Maurice.

'It was unbelievable,' Maurice said with quiet honesty. 'I've never seen anyone climb like that.'

Gaston seemed satisfied with the praise.

'I've always said…' he retrieved Magnifique from Le Fou, '…that anyone with enough courage can't fail at things.' He led the way around the castle, leaving the other two to follow behind him as usual.

'But why on earth didn't you go downstairs with Belle?' Maurice asked.

Gaston frowned. 'She said there were servants who would see. She said they wouldn't stop her walking around on her own.'

'Belle let you go back out of the window?' Maurice was shocked.

'Oh yes…I told her it wasn't a problem.'

'It was _fantastic_ ,' Le Fou insisted. 'Ten points out of ten!'

'I think my heart almost stopped when I saw you fall,' said Maurice quietly.

Gaston looked over his shoulder at both of them, but he looked at Maurice for longer. There was something searching in his eyes as if he was looking for something he had forgotten.

'You should come to the tavern with us tomorrow to celebrate Belle's return,' he said abruptly.

Maurice understood something of the inarticulacy of men, especially young men, when it came to expressing their feelings. It was enough to understand that Gaston wanted to pursue a friendship between them and that this friendship had little to do with his pursuit of Belle.

'Thank you, I hope I will be able to,' he answered honestly. 'And you must both come to dinner, please.'

They accepted with gratitude but Gaston still appeared to be in his momentarily serious mood.

'If anyone tries to stop us leaving,' he said to Maurice, 'you must take Belle and go.' He held his gaze to emphasize the point. 'Don't wait for us, we'll follow behind. Get yourselves straight home.'

Maurice opened his mouth to protest but shut it again at Gaston's gesture. They had reached the main door.

There was nothing at first, only silence and the rustling and dripping of trees. Then, from behind the door, there was a faint sound of locks being turned and a bolt slowly drawn back with a rusty creak. The heavy oaken door was pulled open an inch and Belle slipped through.

'Oh Papa!' she threw herself into his arms. 'Oh Papa! I wanted to see you again so much.'

'Belle! Oh my darling, you're safe, Papa is here.' He held her tightly. She looked pale and tear-stained but not hurt.

Belle shook her head, eyes wide with fear.

'No, we're not safe. He'll be angry! He'll find us.'

'Who, Belle?' Gaston put in. He eased the castle door shut and placed himself between Belle and the door.

'The…the…the one who lives here,' Belle stammered. 'Oh, I can't explain; you wouldn't believe me unless you saw him yourself. You have to go, all of you. You have to escape! I promised him I'd stay.'

'We're leaving with you, Belle,' Gaston wrapped his cloak around her shoulders and pushed both Belle and Maurice gently but firmly towards the horses.

'You're coming back home with me, my darling,' Maurice told her. He stroked her hair. 'This nightmare will be over. We'll all be sa -'

With a boom that shook the castle, the doors were thrown back on their hinges and between them loomed the figure which had haunted Maurice's every thought. Twice human height and covered with bristling hair, fangs drawn back into a killer snarl, it was the Beast.


	6. Chapter 6 Bonjour, Belle

Le Fou dropped with a choked thud in a dead faint onto the steps and the Beast roared and surged forward.

Gaston reacted instantly. Snatching up Belle, he threw her onto the cob, legged Maurice up behind and delivered a ringing smack to the horses' flank.

'Go _home_! He bellowed.

Not needing to be told twice, the horse bolted for the main gate, followed by both Magnifique and Mon Ami. Maurice was only able to grab for the reins, hold onto Belle and try to stay in the saddle for the wild ride.

Belle managed to look over her shoulder.

'Don't hurt him!' she begged. 'Please don't hurt him! Oh, we have to go back.' She tried to take back the reins and turn the horse but Maurice hung on grimly and they might as well have tried to steer a rock as turn the terrified horse.

'We have to keep going, my dear.'

'We can't just _leave_ them.' Belle made another determined effort to gain control of the reins. 'Didn't you see how angry he looked?'

'I did,' said Maurice grimly. 'And I'm doing exactly what the boy told me to do which is to get you away from there.' He struggled to get his feet into the flying stirrups to get some control over the horse before it plunged madly into the woods and broke a leg in the darkness.

'No!'

They galloped through the main gate and into the forest despite Belle's protest. Almost immediately the castle was swallowed up in darkness. The other horses were quickly lost to sight and Belle and Maurice alone clung to each other, slipping on the saddle in the wild flight.

'But he'll _kill_ them.' Belle tried to look back again and almost lost her precarious grip. Twisting like a cat, she managed to balance again.

'I'm sure he won't,' Maurice reassured her. They both ducked under a low tree branch. The horse slowed slightly, taking stock of its surroundings again, and he managed to get both feet into the stirrups and take a firmer hold of Belle around her waist.

'I've never met such a capable fellow,' he said. 'I'm sure we'll see them again soon.'

'Philippe is still there!'

Maurice sighed. It hurt him terribly to abandon Philippe and to run away, leaving the two young men behind but Belle came before all other things in the world.

'You mean more to me than anything else in the world, Belle.' He looked down at her shining chestnut hair. 'Don't worry,' he told her. 'I'm certain Gaston will find a way out of this...'

'Yes, but - '

'….and bring Le Fou and Philippe safely home.'

'I wish I could be sure, too,' Belle said unhappily.

The ride back to Villeneuve took them hours on the patient but exhausted horse. Throughout the early hours, as the sun gradually broke through the clouds, Maurice and Belle took turns to walk to ease the burden, stumbling through the undergrowth. Finding the way home in the dark forest was no easier than finding the way to the castle and many times they questioned whether they were heading in the right direction at all. Eventually, they found themselves emerging out of the forest some miles from the town but the sight of the little roofs with smoke beginning to rise from the chimneys was as welcome as the morning sun.

Maurice finally understood how popular his gentle daughter had become with in the town when people poured around them, taking up the bridle and leading them to the Square.

'Belle! You're safe!'

'Bonjour, Belle!'

'Here she comes!'

Belle and Maurice were almost overwhelmed by the welcome. Friendly hands helped them to dismount and led the tired horse into its stable. Père Robert rushed over to them to clasp their hands warmly, kind eyes crinkled with happiness. Old women brushed the leaves and mud from their cloaks and trust mugs of hot ale into their hands. Traders abandoned their stalls and left trays of bread and buckets of milk discarded by the side of the road.

'Tell us what happened to you!'

'How did they find you?'

'Where is Gaston?'

'Is Gaston coming back soon?'

More and more of the questions returned to that central point. _Where is Gaston? Is he coming back?_ Maurice saw Belle open her mouth to answer the question honestly and leaped in.

'We were attacked by a huge beast and Gaston stayed behind to defend us.' That much was true. 'It must have been a bear…I could hardly see in the dark.' Out of the corner of his eye, Maurice saw Belle staring at him. 'It had made its home in some ruins deep in the forest.'

'A bear, at this time of year?' someone asked, suspiciously.

'It seemed taller than us…what else could it have been?'

This was accepted with little question, men taking up the idea and passing it between themselves. 'Maybe something woke it up,' one said. 'Could have been sheltered by the ruins,' suggested another. 'What else could it have been?' a third man repeated and this was the refrain which was taken up.

'Gaston can fight a bear,' people declared. 'He'll be back in no time.'

Eventually Belle and Maurice made it back to their cottage, waved off by many of their friends. It was obvious that most of the village - and especially the younger women - were settling down to wait for Gaston's return.

Once they were inside with the door safely shut, Belle turned to Maurice.

'I don't understand why you wouldn't tell them.'

Maurice cleared his throat. 'Just think, my dear, what they would have done if I told them what we saw.' It was becoming difficult to breathe again. 'At best they wouldn't have believed us. I would be labelled a madman for describing a beast in human clothing.'

Belle frowned and bit her lip. 'But it was _true_.'

'Yes, it was. But if they _had_ believed me, do you think people would tolerate this? Mobs have been formed for far less, unfortunately. I can't foresee that ending well.' He remembered the servants who had sheltered him and pleaded with their master on his behalf.

'It wouldn't end well for either side, I'm sure.'

Belle thought about it, her quick mind drawing the same conclusions and going one step further.

'We have to talk to Gaston as soon as he gets back.' She bit her lip. 'If he gets back.'

The hours crept past. Maurice's cough returned and Belle insisted on him staying inside by the fire with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, as she fed the hungry goat and chickens, drew fresh water from the well, swept the house and carried in armfuls of wood for the fire. While she worked, she told him how she had been treated in the castle. She had been frightened but not harmed, she said. The servants had been kind to her and the Beast had given her a large bedroom and dinner in the evening. The Beast had wavered between a harsh, morose manner and an unexpected politeness.

'There's a terrible mystery in the castle,' she concluded. 'We _have_ to help them.'

Maurice closed his eyes, thinking of talking teapots, walking clocks and candlesticks who jumped and swung from place to place, waving their arms.

'Yes, of course, my dear,' he said. 'But how?'

Belle ran her finger along the little line of books they owned.

'I don't think there's anything we can use in here,' she said. 'But we've got to find out more.'

'That may well come back down to Gaston.' Maurice saw Belle about to counter-argue and continued hastily. 'He is, as far as I know, of a local family and should be familiar with the area around here.'

'Well…yes. That would probably help,' Belle agreed. 'But tell me what happened to _you_ , Papa.'

Maurice in turn recounted the events of the night: his decision to ask for help searching for her, the way that the village had turned out at Gaston's inspirational speech, the long ride through the woods, the deliberate attempt to lure the wolves away from Belle….

'…You let them try to bring the wolves to you?'

'I did. I'm very sorry about for the deception - especially as Gaston took the entire force of the attack and got a rather bad bite - but I didn't see any other choice at that point.'

'He got bitten?' Belle was distressed.

Maurice nodded gravely. 'Quite badly on the wrist.' He cleared his throat. 'His intentions were to lure the wolves away from you. You may wish to thank him for that. I certainly will again.'

Belle blinked, looking abstracted with thought. She nodded slightly and then looked up, startled.

'He didn't climb up the wall with an injured arm, did he?'

'He did,' Maurice confirmed. 'And if you have any influence over him, please tell him never to do that again. I don't think I could stand watching that a second time.'

'Oh….I'm sure I don't have any influence.' She turned quickly away to stare out of the window.

She tried to insist that he lay down in his bed to rest but Maurice was determined to wait for Gaston to return. Belle, too, he saw, paused often in her work to look out of the window. Even when she finally sat down with a book in her hands, she barely turned a page, glancing back up at the window at every sound of feet or hooves on the road.

'Are you _sure_ he'll come back?' she demanded for the third or fourth time that morning.

Maurice was half drowsing in the heat from the fire but he still heard her.

'I'm sure, my dear,' he answered patiently.

She buried her head in her hands for a moment, utterly worn out.

'We shouldn't have left them.'

There was a sudden thumping at the door and Belle sprang up. She flew to open it and gasped. Maurice couldn't see their visitor from where he sat by the fire but he took a wild guess.

'Is that you, Jean-Luc? Come in!'

'Maurice!' Gaston boomed cheerfully. He leaned past Belle and looked in, smiling. 'I can't come in; I've got your horse with me.'

Philippe looked in, too, resting his chin on Gaston's shoulder affectionately and whickered at them. Belle rested her cheek against Philippe's soft grey neck.

Maurice beamed at the sight in the doorway. It warmed his heart to see the good old grey horse, the man and the young woman leaning on each other. He made an effort and heaved himself up from his chair by the fire despite his tiredness. It was too fast. Black spots flickered in front of his eyes and he suddenly felt unsteady.

Belle was fast but Gaston was faster. Leaping forward, he caught Maurice before he could fall. Maurice was thankful to catch hold of his strong arm. If it had to be one of them (and how sad it was to need an arm to lean on) then he was grateful it was the tall Gaston and not his slim little daughter who had to hold him up.

'Thank you, my boy,' he said, as soon as he could speak. He coughed weakly. 'Thank you _again_.'

'Oh think nothing of it.' Gaston helped him back to his chair. 'You'll be riding through the woods with us again in no time,' he declared.

Maurice smiled.

'I'm sure I shall. But more importantly, how are you? I hope that you didn't get hurt,' he said with concern.

'Not a scratch,' Gaston told him cheerfully, if untruthfully. He looked pale with tiredness and there were several still bleeding scrapes down the side of his face but he still stood up straight with his shoulders back.

'And are they safe? Monsieur Le Fou and your horses?'

'Yes, safe and sound. Le Fou is taking care of the other horses right now.'

Both Maurice and Belle relaxed, the last of the worry draining out of the room.

Belle laid a hand on Gaston's sleeve.

'Will you tell him that he should rest now, please? He wouldn't go to bed until you came back.' She looked up at him. 'I…we…were waiting….' Belle blushed and trailed off. 'I'm very happy that you're safe,' she said more confidently. 'And _thank you_ for coming to rescue me.' She smiled up at him.

Gaston smiled back down at her, covering her hand with his own. For once, despite his confidence, he seemed willing to simply drink in Belle's smile without words.

Philippe broke the moment, dropping his head between them and neighing loudly to remind his family that he hadn't been fed.

'I'll take him to his stable,' Maurice began to stand up from his chair again.

'Let me.' Belle said hastily, letting go of Gaston's sleeve.

'No, no, stay inside. I'll take him,' the Captain told her. He gathered up Philippe's reins and urged the horse back out of the door. He moved rather stiffly and Maurice suspected that some of his adventures were catching up with him in the form of aching muscles and bruises.

'Why don't you show him where everything is?' Maurice suggested. Belle threw him a look halfway between amusement and suspicion and hurried out of the door after Gaston.

Maurice closed his eyes, confident that Philippe was being cared for and deeply thankful to see Gaston back.

A little while later, Belle slipped in through the door.

'Would you like a cup of tea, Papa? I'm going to put the kettle on.'

He sat up, rubbing his eyes.

'Yes, thank you, my dear.' He looked past her. 'Did Gaston leave?'

'No, he's just out at the pump.' Belle set the kettle over the fire. 'He's coming back in a moment.'

Gaston reappeared in the doorway, leaning against it heavily and looking around.

'You've got a nice place here,' he said with approval.

'Come and sit down,' Belle invited.

She began setting out cups and saucers, turning the cups around in her hands as if seeing them for the first time. Gaston pulled out a chair and dropped down, propping his chin on one hand, content to sit and look at her. Outside, the morning air carried a sharp chill. Within the cottage, there was a comfortable peace and warmth. The fire crackled cheerfully in the hearth and Belle measured tea into the pot. By the time she poured it out, Gaston was stretched out across the table, asleep.

Belle looked from him to Maurice and back again, uncertainly, tea cups still in her hand.

'Let him sleep,' Maurice advised. 'You and I can drink this tea you've made and then you should sleep, too.'

Belle nodded, her eyes heavy with tiredness too. She passed him his cup and sat down opposite the sleeping man who was sprawled across the table. Maurice watched with something like amusement the harmless puzzle she faced. She couldn't find enough room to set her own cup down on the table.

'Just push him over a bit, my dear,' Maurice advised cheerfully.

'I can't do that,' Belle looked horrified at the thought. 'He's our _guest_ , not…not….somebody's dog who's taking up too much room.'

'He won't mind at all,' he assured her.

She looked dubious but gently pushed Gaston over slightly. He yielded to her push without waking up at all but sprawled straight back as soon as she let go. Belle sighed, set her half-finished cup down on the floor and rested her head in her hands. She braced her elbows on the table and nudged Gaston aside again. Her head fell forward. Maurice was the last to fall asleep. The final thing he saw before he sank into sleep was his daughter and her would-be suitor both asleep at the table, the chestnut head almost touching the dark.


	7. Chapter 7 Nights of Song

**Thanks again to all the reviewers for the comments, especially Mbanshee.**

 **The answers to a couple of questions:**

 **Who is Jean-Luc? Jean-Luc is the first name I've given Gaston (after Luke Evans).**

 **Will they fall in love? I'll leave the answer to the end of the fic but I will say that they have a lot of work to do before they really understand each other.**

A bright sunbeam in his eyes woke Maurice up first. He squinted out of the window. The sun was almost at its peak. Had they really slept for hours? He looked across at the table. Both Belle and Gaston were still stretched out across the table. He levered himself up from his chair and stirred up the fire as quietly as he could. The slight crackle woke Belle. She seemed to realize suddenly that she was resting her head on Gaston's arm. She sat up quickly, rubbing her eyes.

'What time is it, Papa?' she whispered.

'Close to midday.' He looked at the clock. 'Past eleven. We've been asleep for hours.'

The light whispers woke the younger man. He sat up, stretching his arms, tilting the chair back on two legs.

'I'm going to make something for lunch,' Belle announced. 'Would you like to stay? You still haven't told us what happened last night….and there's something I'd like to ask you.'

'Really?' Gaston lit up. 'There's something I'd like to ask you, too.'

'I'm just going to get some vegetables,' Belle said hastily and slipped out of the back door.

As soon as she was out of the door, Gaston leaned across towards Maurice.

'Do I have your permission to ask her to marry me?' he asked urgently.

'Ask her to marry you? Right now?'

'Of course! What could be more romantic? I rescue her from a savage beast and ask for her hand in marriage.'

'Not right now!' Maurice saw the confusion and disappointment on his face and added quickly, 'We don't all have your powers of recovery, my boy. Belle has had a terrible ordeal.' He saw Belle coming back up the path and stood up.

'Come out to the stable,' he invited loudly. 'I'd like you to see Philippe again. He's a fine horse.'

Gaston followed him obediently down the path. Once they were inside the stable, Maurice turned to him.

'This really isn't the right time, you know,' he apologized.

'Would tomorrow be better?' Gaston offered.

'No, not tomorrow either,' Maurice told him. Philippe nudged his pocket, hoping for a carrot. He had nothing to give him but stroked the soft grey head.

'She'll have to get over her shock at some time,' the other man returned, rather dismissively Maurice thought. 'She was only lost for a day and a night.'

'You have certainly earned her gratitude for the rescue,' Maurice said carefully. 'And mine too, that goes without saying. But it's not a question of shock but of understanding. Do you feel that you know her well enough to make such a big decision? And does she know you? It may certainly be romantic to rescue a girl and propose to her but is Belle truly the one you wish to marry?'

'I've wanted to marry her from the moment I first set eyes on her,' Gaston assured him.

'I am afraid that there are other girls in the town whose love would be rather easier to win,' Maurice said honestly. 'Belle is rather different to the others. She reads. She thinks deeply. She teaches others and these things are not little matters that she would put aside when she married but part of her nature. Are you sure that she is the right wife for you?'

'Are you trying to put me off?' Gaston looked younger than usual, confused and slightly hurt. 'I know she's not like the other girls round here.'

'No,' Maurice reassured him. 'You have my permission to visit us if you wish…and I will be glad to see you too. However, any decisions will be Belle's and Belle's alone.'

'But she'll come round in the end?'

'I can't answer that question,' Maurice said as gently as he could. 'I can only advise you. Firstly, if you wish to marry Belle, let it not be because it is a challenge or for the sake of her looks. Let it be because you admire and appreciate her courage and spirit, her kindness to others, her intelligence and her passion for books. Secondly, when you talk with her, listen to her opinions. Give her time and space to speak and ask her questions. Remember that she has a well-informed and ready mind. Laugh with her but never at her and above all…behave honorably towards her and others.'

Gaston nodded, looking completely taken aback and slightly sulky. Maurice doubted both how much the young man had taken in and how much he would be willing to put into practice.

Maurice patted his arm. 'I'm sure that a man who climbs castle walls and fights wolves could do all of that, if he put his mind to it. Think of this as an excellent beginning rather than a predictable ending.' Gaston brightened up a little.

'And now, my boy, shall we go back inside? Belle and I are still waiting to hear your story, you know, and I believe she has a question to ask.'

When they got back inside, Belle had a stew simmering on the fire. She turned to them, smiling.

'Do you like Philippe?' she asked.

'Oh, your horse?' Gaston still looked lost in thought. He blinked and focused on Belle properly. 'Yes, he went very well. A good horse.'

'How did you manage to rescue them? It looked so desperate.' Belle sat down at the table and indicated his chair with a friendly look.

Gaston dropped into it, rubbing his chin in thought. He looked at the door as if to check they were alone and then back at Maurice and Belle.

'Well, I was just thinking that the head would look good on my wall….' he hesitated.

They waited.

'When it spoke,' he admitted. 'It spoke with the voice of a man.'

'Yes, he spoke to me, too,' said Belle in a matter-of-fact way. 'Did you see any of the servants?'

'I….heard them.' Gaston hesitated. 'They came out to speak to him but….' he trailed off.

'Were they a clock and a candlestick?' asked Belle brightly. 'I met them too. They were both quite friendly.'

He stared at her.

'I'm sure neither of us imaged it,' she said. 'I saw them clearly and spoke to them. It can't have been a trick.'

'And….the teapot?'

'Oh yes. She was very kind.'

They looked across the table at each other and suddenly laughed helplessly at the absurdity of the conversation. Gaston recovered first.

'It's sorcery, Belle. There's no other explanation. The teapot…it….called me by my name. It's some of black magic. It's got to be stopped.'

'I agree,' she said, promptly. 'We have to save them!'

'Save them? This is black magic!'

'Well, do you think it's their fault?'

That stopped him in his tracks.

'I don't…I don't know. But an enchanted object calling me by my name? It has to be stopped. The monster must be at the heart of all this! You needn't be afraid, Belle,' he added. 'I'll protect the town from them.'

'But what if you'd be accidentally killing someone you know?' she protested. 'Think about it….isn't it equally likely that a person became enchanted as a teapot rather than a teapot made to talk? Especially since she recognized you. What did she say?'

He rubbed his temples as if trying to drive away a headache.

'She…asked the monster not to kill us,' he said. 'She said, "Master, please don't hurt them. That's Jean-Luc."' He stared at her. 'Just like that. "That's Jean-Luc." It's just…there was _something_ in her voice that I think I should remember.' He glanced at Maurice. 'This must sound unbelievable.'

'No, not at all,' Maurice reassured him. 'I've heard Belle's story.'

'And you believe us both?'

'Without question,' he answered firmly.

'Did he let you go after that?' Belle asked. She took the stew from the fire and ladled it into three dishes.

'He threw us down the steps.' Gaston flushed with anger or embarrassment. 'He said we were free to stay and starve or take our chances with the wolves but he wouldn't have any more trespassers.'

'He didn't hurt you, did he,' she asked anxiously. She set the food down in front of them.

He warmed again under her concern.

'No, not at all. Don't worry. He'd have to throw me a lot further to hurt _me_.' He dug into the stew.

'This is good, Belle,' he said through mouthfuls. 'You're a good cook.'

She smiled politely and started to eat her own, looking lost in thought for a few moments.

'Did he leave you alone after that?' Maurice asked.

'He went back inside.' He hesitated again. 'He said one last thing before he left. I don't know if you want to hear this, Belle.'

'I do,' she said promptly.

'He said… "Remember that I didn't try to stop her from leaving. Tell her that I wish I could have met her in better times." Something like that, anyway.'

'Oh.' She took that in. 'Well that just confirms it, doesn't it?'

'Confirms what?'

'We have to save them, of course. If it's dark magic, I can't imagine everyone chose to become teapots and candlesticks and it sounds as if he didn't choose to be a beast, either. There must be a sorcerer somewhere…but it doesn't sound like one of them.'

'I'll have to go back the castle,' he said with determination. 'If a magician is keeping them in some sort of a curse, I'll find him and rescue them from him.'

'I think, perhaps, we should find out more, first,' Belle said carefully. 'Don't you agree, Papa?'

'Certainly it would be wise to try to gather some more information,' Maurice agreed. 'We may be able to determine the names of missing people or gather up other reports of mysteries that may give us some clues about this magic.'

'We know some names, anyway,' Belle put in. 'Monsieur Cogsworth, Monsieur Lumière and Mrs. Potts.'

'Mrs. Potts?' Gaston jumped. 'Not any relation to old Jean Potts? My father's cousin, you know,' he explained.

'She might be,' Belle said cautiously.

'I've got to rescue _her_. And a Cogsworth might be related to Madame Clothilde.'

'This is exactly why we need you,' Belle burst out, tactlessly.

Gaston preened. 'I think it's safe to say I know just about everybody around here.'

'Perhaps you might make some discreet enquiries,' Maurice suggested. 'It would be best to get some idea of the number of people who might be involved.'

'I'll talk to Père Robert,' Belle volunteered.

'I'll ask around at the tavern,' said Gaston.

'Ah, yes.' Maurice tried to think about how best to approach the matter. 'You might find people asking you about a bear when you go in there. I told them that the beast looked like some kind of bear in a ruined castle. It seemed best,' he said. 'I'm sure you understand why I didn't think I they would believe me.'

'Well, I wouldn't have,' Gaston told him honestly. 'I'd have said you were mad.'

'They may believe _you_ ,' Maurice went on, glad that his initial reasoning had proven correct, 'but for my part, I'll stick with the story of the bear. It's a dramatic story even without the…encounter with the Beast and his servants,' he said.

'Yes, it is.' He gave them his sudden, charming smile. 'Would you like to come to the tavern tonight? We'll be celebrating your safe return, Belle.'

'Oh!' She looked at Maurice. 'Um, well, I would but if Papa isn't well….'

'I believe I can make it for an hour or so, if _you_ aren't too tired, my dear….'

'That's settled then,' Gaston said with decision, jumping up from the table. 'I'll see you tonight. Now, I must go and check on my horses and start drawing up a plan.' He crossed to the door in long strides that made the floorboards rattle. 'Thank you for lunch, Belle,' he said with a ready grin. 'You're a wonderful cook.'

As soon as the door slammed behind him, Belle turned to Maurice, seething with indignation.

'A wonderful cook? Did you hear that?'

Maurice gathered together the discarded dishes and set them in the sink.

'It's not an insult to be called a good cook, my dear,' he said gently. 'Your mother was as good as you and I thanked her for it every day.'

'No…but with _him_ it's as if that's the best thing he could say. He might have…' she hesitated. 'He might have said something about thinking the situation through properly or even for getting on well with the Beast,' she snapped. ' _I_ wasn't the one who got thrown out of the castle two minutes after opening the front door.'

'I believe the Beast was impressed by your spirit and your good heart, my dear,' Maurice said. He began to wash the dishes, waving her aside. 'No, you sit down for a change. You've done all the work this morning.'

Belle picked up her book and glared at it.

'Ugh. Do we _have_ to go to the tavern tonight? I feel as if we were marshalled into it.'

'Yes, it was rather like being in the army,' Maurice said with dry humor. 'It would be polite, though, for everyone who came out for us and you do have many friends in the town who would be pleased to see you there.

'Fine,' she sighed. 'We'll go. For everyone's sake, not just for his.'

The night at the tavern turned out to be far better than either of them had expected, they decided, when the evening was finally over and they were walking home under the bright stars. It had been a night of song and dance. The entire village had been there, taking Maurice and Belle to its heart as never before and it was heartwarming to be drawn into such convivial circles. The presence of Père Robert and many more of the women and children than usual seemed to restrain the men from breaking into the bawdy songs that Maurice had sometimes heard coming from the tavern. The songs they had all sung together were fit for any child to hear, innocent songs of love, requited and unrequited. Gaston had behaved with impressive restraint, by his own standards, refusing to cajole Belle into singing a duet with him as his friends urged, saying nothing of a talking beast and buying drinks with characteristic generosity.

In some ways he had been less restrained. Maurice chuckled to himself at the memory. When the villagers had urged the Captain to tell his story, Gaston had thrown himself into it, heart and soul. Acting it out, with the help of the ever-ready Le Fou, Gaston had stalked imaginary wolves from behind the cover of chairs and flattened himself on the floor, stabbing an invisible wolf with a very visible knife as Le Fou jumped over him in imitation of Mon Ami. The audience had oohed and aahed as he leaped from bar to table to clear the castle gate and gasped as he scaled the wall of the tavern and swung from the chandelier, as he had swung thirty feet above the ground the night before. Belle, like the rest of the village, couldn't keep her eyes off him and applauded with the rest when the show was over and he was knocking back a well-deserved pint.

'What are you thinking about, Papa?'

Maurice smiled at her. 'I think that a circus somewhere is missing a very talented performer.'

Belle giggled. 'Oh Papa. I think so too. It was a very _entertaining_ evening. I've never seen anyone climb the walls of the tavern like that'

Maurice's heart gave a pang. Perhaps Belle needed the lively company of people her own age more than she ever said.

'If you would like, Belle, we could spend more time with the others here,' he offered. 'Parties, dances and so forth. I like to see you happy.'

'Oh, no thank you Papa,' she said. 'I'd miss our evenings by the fire, just talking or reading.' She hesitated. 'I never know what to talk about to the other girls.'

'Do you think you might, perhaps, like to talk to Captain Gaston a little more?'

She looked across sharply. 'Has he said anything to you?'

'I know he admires you.'

'Do you like him?' she asked quietly. 'I always found him quite, well, arrogant in general. And so many things I say seem to go straight over his head. Of course,' she added, 'that isn't all the time and it _was_ very good of him to rescue me.'

He considered his answer. 'I see something in him that could be noble in the right circumstances. 'In the meantime…I'm sure that his faults are no worse than that of any other man who has spent years in military service and he is, perhaps, rather more generous than many. Without a doubt, he is braver.' He looked towards the moon. 'Certainly I saw him to be an admirably capable, determined man who considered your safety and mine throughout last night, remained cheerful and treated his horses well.'

'I don't think that's enough for marriage,' she said simply. 'I'm sure….I'm sure he'd make _someone_ a good husband.' She sighed. 'But I don't think that's me.'

Maurice took her hand. 'I would never ask you to marry a man you didn't love with your whole heart, my dear. Whenever you make a decision to marry or not to marry, you know that I'll support you.'

'I know, Papa.' She laughed ruefully. 'Perhaps there isn't a man out there who is handsome _and_ caring _and_ clever _and_ romantic and who would love me from the moment he first saw me.' She blushed. 'I'm sorry, Papa. I'm happy here with you, truly.' She squeezed his hand. 'I'm so glad to be back here with you.'

'And with you, my dear.' He pushed open the door of the cottage. 'But do you think that you could sit through another meal with Captain Gaston and Monsieur Le Fou? I invited them to dinner as a way of thanking them,' he apologized.

'Oh yes, for your sake I'd be happy to,' she said. 'When on earth did you have time to invite them, though?' she teased. 'I'm sure I've been with you from the moment we left the castle.'

'It was just after he climbed up and down that terrible wall to speak to you,' Maurice said thoughtfully. 'Did you know that he came back down forty feet of almost vertical wall?'


	8. Chapter 8 More Than This Provincial Life

By the next afternoon, the house was spotless. Belle devoted the morning to cleaning the cottage until it shone.

'Do rest a while, my dear,' Maurice urged as she turned over the chairs to scrub the legs. 'You'll be exhausted by the evening and surely two young men won't know if there's a little dirt on the feet of the chair.'

' _I'll_ know,' she replied with determination. She attacked the chair again. 'It's not as if we have people around every day.'

'As you wish, my dear. Is there anything I can do to help?'

'No, Papa.' She smiled at him. 'You carry on working.' Maurice was putting the finishing touches to another music box.

When the evening came and the fire was lit, the woodwork gleamed like warm gold and the walls sparkled with light. Belle looked around with a satisfied smile.

'I think it looks better than a palace,' she declared.

They both pictured the grim, shadowy castle from which they had escaped.

'A home built with love is far better than any palace,' Maurice agreed, drawing her into a warm embrace. He stood back and looked at her. 'And you look as pretty as a princess, my dear.'

She blushed and denied it but it was true. In her Sunday dress, simple but pretty, with her mother's antique locket around her throat, Belle was surely as beautiful as any girl in France.

A knock on the door made her jump and look around. Maurice gave her a reassuring smile. They opened the door together.

'Maurice! Belle! A pleasure to see you.' Gaston filled the doorway, splendid in scarlet military coat and spotless white shirt and breeches. Even his tall boots dazzled under the lights.

'Thank you for coming! Come in, please,' Maurice invited, as soon as he could master speech at the impressive spectacle. 'And Monsieur Le Fou,' he spotted Le Fou behind Gaston, almost entirely hidden in his shadow and smiled warmly at the little man.

'Gaston!' Belle looked up at him with wide eyes. 'You look like….a dragon.' She laughed, a little nervously. It was an apt comparison. In bright red and shining white, with powerful muscles sliding under the thin coat, Gaston did resemble an exotic creature. He seemed to take up most of the room, towering over the others.

'A dragon, Belle?' He smiled down at her, rather as one would smile at a child. 'You have a wonderful imagination. I'm sure you're good at telling stories to children.'

Belle straightened her shoulders and looked him in the eye.

'I find children haven't lost the power of imagination. More adults should take the time to listen to them. When was the last time you talked to a child?' she challenged.

'A few hours ago?' Gaston looked puzzled.

'Oh. Do you…like children?'

'Why yes! And I can't wait to have six or seven of my own,' he said promptly. 'He presented her with a small bouquet of flowers from behind his back with a flourishing bow. 'For you. They reminded me of you. You look like a princess tonight, Belle.'

'Oh!' This time she sounded pleased rather than startled. 'Thank you! Look, Papa,' she held out the little bouquet of blue and white wildflowers. 'Aren't they pretty? I love white and blue. Oh, good evening Monsieur.' she noticed Le Fou.

'Good evening Mademoiselle,' the smaller man returned. He held out a bottle of good wine to Maurice. 'For both of you,' he said politely.

'Thank you, sir,' Maurice said warmly. He looked around at the three young people. 'Shall we open this now? I believe a celebration is in order. There were times, the night before last, when I doubted we would all be here now.'

'I enjoyed the way you told the story last night,' Belle said, looking from one man to the other.

'You did?' Gaston obviously couldn't take his eyes off her. 'I'd do it again for you in a moment.'

'It was wonderful. You brought it all to life. I wish you'd do it for other stories!'

'I could, easily. Why, there's the story of how I defeated the bear…the hunt for a vicious wolf who was terrorizing a village…the capture of the Portuguese…the raids on the villages…'

'What about _Romeo and Juliet_ ' she asked eagerly and then blushed again.

'I don't know that. Why don't you tell me it, Belle?'

'Would you really like to hear it?'

'Of course! I'd like to hear anything you say.'

Gaston and Belle were clearly well on the way to forgetting there were other people in the room. Maurice cleared his throat and handed them a glass each when they looked around.

'Shall we drink to our safe return?'

The four drank the toast with pleasure and there was a moment of silent friendship in the room.

'Ah, I have something else for you, Belle,' Gaston recalled. He drew a thick folded sheet of paper out of his pocket. 'Something I thought you might like.'

'What is it?' Belle unfolded the paper carefully and spread it out on the table. 'It's a map!'

'A map of Western Europe,' Maurice read. 'How interesting,' he said genuinely.

'Yes, it is,' Belle corroborated. 'Isn't it wonderful? I've never seen a map of anywhere beyond France! She turned to Gaston.

'Thank you! I don't think there's anyone else in town who would have brought me a map,' she exclaimed with pleasure.

'I'm pleased you like it, Belle. It's not like those books you borrow. You can use this to find out about places in the real world,' he said, rather patronizingly.

Belle flashed him a look of irritation concealed under politeness.

' _Actually_ , many of the stories are based on true events and most of them involve real places.' She raised her chin. 'Verona,' she said. 'For example.'

'Where's that?'

'It's a beautiful city in the north of Italy,' she answered promptly.

You're a walking encyclopedia, Belle,' he told her with a wink. 'What do you know about Fontenoy?'

'A famous battle,' she said. 'I read about it in the news sheets.' Her eyes widened. 'Where you there?'

'A famous victory for France,' His tone implied that it wouldn't have been a famous victory if he hadn't been.

'It must have been terrible!'

'Terrible? It was a decisive victory on our part.'

'Yes, but it was a battle all the same,' she said softly.

The room seemed to grow quieter and colder. Gaston and Le Fou exchanged glances before looking quickly in opposite directions; Le Fou out of the window, Gaston down at the map.

'That's part of war,' he said firmly but didn't meet her eye. For a moment they all stood in silence before Gaston straightened up, shaking his head as if to clear it.

'Where would _you_ like to see, Belle?'

She looked into the distance. 'I'd love to go back one day and see the house we used to live in near Paris.'

'Why not?' he told her, cheerful again.

Belle traced the distance to Paris with her finger. 'It seems so far. Did we really come such a long way, Papa? I can hardly remember it.'

'I'll come with you,' Gaston volunteered enthusiastically. 'I can sell off some pelts and antlers in the markets.' He looked at Maurice. 'You can try those little music toys you make on the Parisians.' He grinned. 'It'll be like old times to be on the road again. We can go next spring.'

'One of us has to take care of the animals,' Belle objected.

'Oh, someone round here can do that for you,' he waved away the problem. 'Wouldn't you like to go?'

'Yes. ' She bit her lip. 'I think so.' She laughed. 'I'm sorry, I never thought it would be possible. I need time to think about this.' Her eyes sparkled suddenly. 'It would be an adventure, though.'

'You don't _like_ adventures, do you,' Le Fou asked with a look that mingled surprise and horror.

'Of course she does!' Gaston grinned and clapped Le Fou on the back with a friendly blow. 'She's braver than you, my friend.'

Over dinner, the conversation ranged easily from topic to topic. Maurice found it rather amusing to watch the three young people together. Gaston provided an easy flow of conversation. He evidently had something to say about everything under the sun. Belle tempered and elevated the discussion by supplying ideas and facts and Le Fou made the discussion sparkle. Besides odd jokes, he contributed a ready laugh and eager attention that gave the charming impression everything he heard was fascinating. The conversation ranged widely between travel, unusual food, the wines of northern France, Flemish songs and the Austrian mountains. From there, they went on to the political situation, the merits of different horse breeds, and the history of their village and the eccentricities of their neighbours. He noticed that Gaston barely took his eyes off Belle and she in turn looked first to him when she spoke. It was a pleasure to see her laughing and sparring with the two young men. They might have seen far more but her knowledge of France and its current situation was equal in every way. He was deeply proud of her.

When dinner was over they remained sitting at the table, small cups of coffee to hand. Their talk turned to the hidden castle and the table soon grew littered with pieces of paper as they constructed maps from memory. Belle was able to sketch out the main hallways of the castle through which the Beast and his servants had led her. Gaston had the best memory of the forest of the three men and drew a swift practical map.

Père Robert had been unable to uncover any mysteries from Belle's description of missing people but had promised to write to other clerics in the area. None of the men and women who frequented the tavern knew if Jean Potts had ever had a wife. Some said he did and she had died but others claimed that the man had always lived alone. Jean himself would only speak of a lost love for a woman in his past and people said his mind was wandering a little in old age.

Belle propped her chin on her hands.

'It's very sad for him, isn't it? she said thoughtfully. 'When did it happen?'

Gaston and Le Fou turned to each other.

'He moved in with Marie when Madam Bernard died…'

'Didn't he come from Placevielle? Or was it one of the other villages.'

'He did. He came the year….ten years ago,' Gaston concluded.

Belle looked at the map again. 'Placevielle is even close to the castle than we are. It's only a little place. Perhaps he lived there and she worked in the castle ten years ago and he was cursed to forget her!'

The three men sat back and considered this.

'Ten years has a certain poetic quality to it,' Maurice mused.

'It's likely,' Gaston declared more positively. 'In fact, it's very likely. Think what happened ten years ago.'

'The Portuguese came,' Belle supplied readily, unable to resist answering a question. She frowned. 'I remember that we hid in the cellar.'

'Then the army came recruiting,' Maurice said. 'I remember seeing all you young men go off to war. A bad year all round. A terrible hot summer followed by appalling rains. The harvest was almost washed away.'

'A lot of people died about ten years ago,' said Le Fou quietly. 'None of us got anything in our letters but when we got back, well, we would say "Where is Thomas?" _Poof_ ' he waved his hands as if dispersing smoke. '"Gone ten years ago." "Where is Tante Elizabeth?" _Poof. "_ Ten years ago." "Père Francis?" "Who", they would say. "Oh, we have Père Robert now."

'This must be distressing for you, Belle,' Gaston said, with a warning glance at his friend.

'Oh no,' she answered. 'Not at all. I mean, I'm sorry if they really _are_ dead, of course, but if they aren't and some of them are under a curse and can be freed, it's wonderful. Some of it may be coincidence, of course. Did anything else happen ten years ago before all this started? An argument? Did somebody new come to the village?'

A few minutes of concentrated thought failed to produce anything.

'You were the last ones who came to the village before this but it was several years before,' Gaston said. He gazed at Belle. 'Do you remember when I found your dog for you?'

'Not really, I'm afraid. I was too young. I remember how happy I was to see him again.' She smiled at him. 'Oh, talking of finding, I still have your cloak!' She stood up to fetch it. 'Thank you for lending it to me. It was a wet night, wasn't it?' She passed him back the cleaned cloak.

'You should keep it, Belle,' he said warmly. 'It looks even better on you than it does on me. And that's difficult.'

'Gaston!' She laughed at him. 'That's ridiculous. Look!' She wrapped the cloak around her shoulders. 'It's half-way over the floor. If I hadn't been on the horse, it would have been on the ground.' She handed him the cloak with a smile.

'I hope you didn't have too much trouble catching the horses,' Maurice put in.

'Oh, none at all.' Gaston remembered something else. 'Here. Thank you.' He pulled out the handkerchief Maurice had used to bind up his bleeding wrist.' The bloodstains were still faintly visible.

'How _is_ your wrist,' Belle asked with concern.

'It's fine,' he said airily. 'Now about the castle…'

'Can I see?' Belle interrupted.

Maurice watched with amusement as Gaston fought a brief battle between heroic unconcern with injury and the desire to keep Belle's attention.

'Please?' she added.

He pulled back the sleeve of his coat and shirt with some reluctance. The wound was wrapped up in clean strips of rag. She closed her hand tentatively around the injured wrist.

'Does that hurt?'

'No,' he said hoarsely.

Even Maurice could feel the tension gripping the room. They stood together, Gaston stood staring down at Belle and Belle holding his wrist for far longer than her father thought necessary. He could almost hear their heartbeats in the quiet room.

Finally Belle let go and Gaston let his wrist fall with a quiet sigh.

'You should…you should soak the bandages in vinegar,' she stammered. 'It helps to keep the wound clean.'

He nodded without taking his eyes off her.

'Perhaps we should go, now,' Le Fou suggested. 'It's getting rather late.'

Gaston and Belle shot him silent glares.

'But there's so much more -' Belle began quickly.

'To talk about,' he finished.

They fell silent again, looking at each other.

Maurice sipped his coffee; realized it was cold and set the cup down again.

'I'll make some more,' Belle volunteered. She stood up and began to gather the coffee cups.

'No, Le Fou is right,' Gaston said reluctantly. 'We should go. Thank you for dinner tonight.' He smiled at her warmly. 'It was a wonderful evening.'

'Well, it's a small village,' she said. 'We'll see you soon.'

'Very soon.'

'I think the next thing we need to find is what might have happened ten years ago,' Belle said decisively. 'And then we should meet to discuss it.'

'Agreed. Le Fou and I will scout around Placevielle and you and Maurice can take the village.'

'Perfect. No, wait,' Belle stopped. 'If you've hurt your wrist, you shouldn't be riding so much.'

'Don't worry about me, Belle. Nothing stops me.'

She sighed. 'You'll probably say that right up to the point when you fall out of the saddle.'

Le Fou nodded behind Gaston's back. Gaston just laughed and swung the cloak around his shoulders.

' _Au revoir_ Belle….Maurice.' He shook Maurice's hand and took Belle's gently. Bending over her, he kissed the tips of her fingers. Maurice noticed that the look between them seemed to linger a little longer than politeness demanded. Then Gaston was out of the door, leaving Le Fou to make his thanks and trail in his wake.

When the door closed, Belle turned to Maurice immediately.

'Did you tell him to buy me a map, Papa?'

'No', Maurice replied honestly.

'Oh' Belle looked back at the map with an unfamiliar smile in her eyes.

'I was reminiscing about your mother while we camped and I _did_ say that both of you were interested in the world,' he admitted.

'Yes,' she said thoughtfully. 'Yes. I'm interested in the world. I want to see more of it.'

'What do you think about a trip to Paris, then?'

'I'd like to see Paris,' Belle said immediately. 'With Gaston? I'm not sure.' She sighed. 'I'm sure he would protect us but he _organizes_ things. He thinks he knows better than me.'

'Do you want him to stop visiting us?'

'No. Yes. I don't know.' She buried her head in her hands. 'He's funny. He's generous. It's nice to have someone who can talk about anything. But he can be so _annoying_ sometimes about my books. He seems to think I need to be educated by him!'

'I would have said that he already respects you more than he does any other girl in the village, my dear.'

'Hah,' she muttered. 'That's not hard.'

'And that over the course of the evening he did treat your opinions with growing respect.'

'Do you think so?' She sighed. 'He's so sure of himself.' She wandered over to the table and touched the flowers absently, running a gentle finger over the delicate white petals.

'I wouldn't mind as a friend,' she said quietly. 'But I'm sure he… he wants to marry me.' She blushed. 'And I don't want to be married. Not yet. I'm just not ready to be someone's wife. I want to be _me_ first. I want to _do_ something in my own right.' She raised her head, her eyes shining like fire. 'I want people to say "that's Belle who wrote a book" or "that's Belle who saved a dozen lives" not "that's Madame Gaston; isn't she lucky to have him for a husband."

Maurice took her hand. 'Come with me, Belle.' He led her out to the front steps and they sat down together outside.

She ran a hand through her hair. 'Papa, what…?'

He looked upwards. 'Look at the stars, my dear.' Above them, thousands of stars glittered in a velvet-black night sky. They sat together, shoulder to shoulder under the silent starlight. 'Our lives come and go but the stars remain the same.' Maurice counselled. 'When things seem difficult and impossible to solve, I like to look at the stars. Our problems become so small when we think about them.'

Belle leaned against his shoulder. 'I remember you teaching me the names.'

He smiled at her and took her hands in his own to keep them warm. 'The stars have seen all our troubles here on earth. People thousands of years ago sat and looked up at the same stars. Don't worry about marriage, Belle,' he said gently. 'What's meant to be, will be. Any man worth marrying will wait.'


	9. Chapter 9 Mornings and Evenings

**Thanks for the reviews! I'm glad you're finding it interesting. In this chapter it's a case of one step forward and another backwards for Belle and Gaston.** _

In a bright and sunny late morning, Maurice and Belle strolled together through the village. It was good, Maurice thought, to be walking through town with his daughter. Normally he would have been taking advantage of the bright daylight to work on the delicate music boxes. Now, on the chance of meeting Gaston and Le Fou, they were taking a walk together, hands and faces warmed by the autumn sun.

Père Robert saw them and stepped out to join them. The three seated themselves comfortably on the low stone wall outside the church.

'No books today, Belle?' He gave her a conspiratorial smile.

'Not today thank you,' she said with a laugh. 'It's been so busy that I still haven't finished the last one.'

'A girl who reads like lightning?' He smiled at her. 'Surely not.'

'We've all been consumed with the mystery of the missing people,' Belle explained. 'And the ruined castle. Did you find out anything else, Père?'

'Not yet, alas. The post is far too slow. I'm as eager to find out more as you are. It seems a truly irrational disappearance.' He looked up into the distance. 'Ah, here come people who are seeking us, I believe.'

Gaston and Le Fou rode through the village at a rapid trot, the shop girls and market girls hanging out of windows and stalls to make sheep's eyes at the handsome captain. Belle stood up and waved. Gaston wheeled his horse towards her and swung himself dramatically down before Magnifique was brought to a halt.

'Ah Belle…Maurice…Père. How wonderful to see you here.'

'Bonjour, Gaston' Belle greeted him with a warm smile, Maurice and Robert likewise. The young man brought an infectious enthusiasm and energy to the gathering. Maurice suddenly realized that part of Gaston's charm lay in his powerful air of being a performer before an audience but he supposed there was no harm in that.

'Oh, Père Robert…..' A stout lady bore down on them, skirts bustling. 'About Henri's baptism….'

Père Robert stood up. 'I would very much like to stay but I feel my services are about to be in demand. Goodbye, my sons; my daughter.'

Gaston nodded to him cheerfully, tossed the reins to the waiting Le Fou and dropped onto Robert's vacated place before Maurice and Belle had finished making their own adieus.

'What a beautiful morning,' he remarked, taking the opportunity to gaze at Belle. 'You look lovely today.'

'Have you ridden far?' Maurice asked while Belle was momentarily lost for an answer.

'Oh, to Placevielle and back,' Gaston said easily, stretching out his long legs. 'And out to have another look at the castle.'

'You have to be careful!' Belle cried and then lowered her voice, remembering the people in the square. 'Think about the magic. Anything could have happened.'

'Not to me, Belle. Don't worry.' He gave her a confident grin. 'I just wanted to inspect the area.'

'Well, what did you find?'

'No tracks the whole way round. Nothing goes in or out.' He leaned forward. 'But here's the interesting part. There's a clear line through the trees towards the road. No large trees. You can only see it from the right angle but then,' he preened, 'I am the greatest hunter around.'

To his obvious disappointment, Belle turned immediately to Maurice. 'It could be an old, overgrown road, couldn't it?'

'Yes, removed ten years ago,' he replied swiftly. 'Belle, my dear, I think you were right about this matter of ten years. The evidence is gathering.' He looked past her, to Gaston. 'Did you find anything in Placevielle?'

To their surprise, Le Fou answered the question before Gaston could get there.

'Well, I think I found something but Gaston thinks it's just bad drawing.'

'What is?'

'The sign on the tavern. Do you know the one? The Prince's Head. It doesn't look like any of the pictures I've seen of our princes; that's all.'

'And _I_ think they just couldn't paint,' Gaston put in. 'It's been there for years.'

'Ten years?' Maurice asked doubtfully.

'Fifteen at least.'

'Hmmm. Probably nothing to do with it, then. Bonjour, mademoiselle,' he added with a smile to a little girl who appeared between the horses.

'It's Amelia,' Belle said with delight. She made room for the little girl on the wall between herself and Gaston. 'I see you at the washing pool, don't I?'

'You haven't got your book today,' the little girl observed.

'I didn't bring my book with me today,' Belle apologized, smiling. 'But you're the second person who's asked.'

'No book?' Gaston dropped off the wall and crouched in front of the little girl. 'Well, perhaps you'd better look at my horse instead.' He walked the big horse over so that the child, standing up on the wall, could stroke his head.

'Can I tell you a secret?' the little girl asked, looking up at him with trusting dark eyes.

'Of course.' He bent down to her height while she whispered something in his ear. 'She is?' He looked at Belle. 'Well, she knows everything.' Belle blushed at the compliment. 'I'll prove it,' he told her. 'Ask her what my horse's name is.'

'What's his horse's name?' the girl parroted obediently.

'Magnifique.' Belle was never able to resist answering questions correctly.

'She's right!' Gaston cheered. 'Don't you think it's a good name for him?'

'Yes,' the child breathed. 'I wish Mama and Papa had a huge horse like this so I could ride him everywhere.' She stroked Magnifique again.

'You'd like to ride?'

'Oh yes!'

Belle guessed what Gaston was planning a moment before he moved.

'Don't you dare,' she hissed. 'It's not safe! You don't know what her parents will say.'

Gaston was already lifting the little girl into the saddle. With a hand on her back to steady her and another hand on the bridle, he looked up at Amelia.

'Shall we go and see what they'll say?' he invited with a conspiratorial wink.

'The child nodded, her eyes shining with glee.

'Look, there's Mama!'

'Hands on the saddle,' he said automatically. 'Hold on tight.'

Belle turned to Maurice with a despairing look. He patted her hand.

'She'll be fine, my dear. He's got a hand on her and on the horse and she's not a toddler.'

'Yes, but that's no child's pony,' she protested. 'I'd be hurt if I fell from that height.' She buried her head in her hands for a moment. 'He is very sweet with her, though,' she said quietly, almost too softly for Maurice to hear. She threw a look of exasperated affection at Gaston's back.

In a moment of sentimentality, Maurice allowed himself to picture a little granddaughter, an engaging brown haired scrap of a girl, just like Amelia, being led carefully by her father on a huge horse while Belle bit her lip in anxiety.

Gaston swaggered back, having delivered the girl safely and been thanked profusely by mother and daughter for giving her such a treat.

'What can I say, Belle,' he grinned. 'Everyone loves me.'

'I think she liked your horse,' Belle returned dryly. She smiled at Amelia across the square. 'She's a good girl, though.'

'She is,' he agreed cheerfully.

Maurice recalled them to their original conversation before there were any more interruptions. The square was bustling with people and many children were eyeing the two horses and making efforts to break away from their parents' attention.

'So, to return to our mystery, what's our next plan? Wait for the letters to be answered?'

'Isn't there something else we could do while we wait?' Belle asked impatiently. 'I'm sure they don't want to be under a curse for a moment longer than we need.'

'How about a ride tomorrow?' Gaston suggested. 'The four of us could take a ride around the area, see what we can find and stop at the Prince's Head for something to eat on the way back? You can take Cheval, Maurice.'

'The horse you lent me before? He was a good fellow.' He turned to Belle. 'I wouldn't mind a few hours ride in the sun, my dear. What do you say?'

'I always like to ride,' Belle agreed, torn between eagerness and hesitation. 'But….' she glanced towards the men and women filling the square and Maurice read her mind. The local gossipmongers were probably already setting a wedding date. Although there was nothing they could disapprove of in a girl taking a ride with two young men with her father to chaperone, they both knew that tongues would wag from end of the village to another.

'Shall we see how the weather is tomorrow? Maurice evaded diplomatically. 'It looks as if there may be a storm on the horizon.' He resolved to track Gaston or Le Fou down separately and find a way to explain it without embarrassing Belle. However, Gaston wasn't finished.

'Well, will you come to the dance tonight, Belle?' he asked eagerly.

'Dance?'

'A few of us were talking it over late last night. A dance for the day of St Piaton. We haven't had a proper one for months.' He grinned and rubbed his hands. 'We'll set some things up in the Square; bring some barrels out from the tavern, that sort of thing.'

'Oh, that sounds…lovely. But I'm not sure, sorry. I'm sure you'll all have a good time,' she added hastily.

'Come on, Belle,' Gaston encouraged her boisterously. 'You can't say no to everything. Come and enjoy yourself for a few hours.'

'I hardly ever dance…and there are so many dances that I don't know,' she demurred.

'I'm sure you'll be perfect,' Gaston encouraged. 'You're so graceful. The way you move through the village is….'

Maurice cleared his throat again, pointedly. There was a limit to how much open flirtation he was prepared to tolerate, whether he liked the young man or not.

Gaston caught the hint and changed the subject hastily.

'I'm sure you'd have a good time.' He turned to Le Fou. 'Lots of people were planning to be there, weren't they?'

'Everyone in the village will be there,' his friend said positively.

Belle gave in gracefully. 'Yes, I'll be there _with everyone else_ ,' she said emphatically. 'I'm sure it will be a lovely evening.'

Gaston rose and swung himself into the saddle with a graceful movement that made most of the young ladies of the town sign audibly. He tossed back his black hair dramatically. ' _Au revoir_ …until this evening,' he told her with a broad smile.

In the late afternoon, Belle came storming back into the house in an unusually vehement mood. She dropped the sack of washing on the table. 'Do you _know_ how many of the women here have asked me when I'm going to marry Gaston?' She didn't wait for a reply. 'Notice that? Not _if_ but when. Every single women from fifteen to, oh, I don't know how old has caught hold of me in the last few hours and told me to tell them when the wedding date is.' She unpacked the sack, flinging towels over the edge of a chair. 'They must have been watching us talk the whole time we were in the square. They just _assume_ I'm going to marry him because he rescued me and because he came for dinner and _because_ there's a dance and he's probably paying for most of it.'

Maurice didn't explain that this was probably Gaston's ultimate intention too. There was nothing to be gained from adding fuel to the fire.

'Then we shan't go, my dear,' he said mildly. 'There is no obligation for you to go.'

'Yes there is,' she answered swiftly. 'I promised I would.' His fearless daughter. Belle would keep a promise at any cost.

'I can make your excuses,' he offered. 'I'll say you aren't well.'

'It's tempting,' Belle said. 'But no. it's better to go and make sure I speak to other people besides him.' She stood up, an idea obviously entering her mind. Her eyes kindled fire. 'I'm going,' she announced. 'To get ready.'

When she emerged from the bedroom, Maurice was confused. She was wearing her oldest dress, faded from too many washes and neatly darned in places.

'Don't you…want to get changed for the dance? There isn't enough time to do any more chores first.'

'I am changed,' Belle insisted. 'I don't want to be judged on my looks. If anyone wants to dance with me, I'll know they're interested in talking to _me_.'

'It's a fine aim, my dear,' he said as gently as he could. 'But I don't think people will understand. This is quite a simple place.'

'Yes,' she said with unshaken determination. 'And I'm dressed as simply as anyone could be.' She sighed and caught his hand. 'You understand, don't you, Papa?' she said. 'It's a test.'

'Perhaps it's…too early for that sort of test,' he suggested.

She stared at him incredulously.

'Half the village thinks I should marry him right now and it's too early to find out if he likes _me_ and not some…pretty trophy?'

'A well-educated person might understand. An imaginative person may certainly realize what you intend. But a former soldier from a farming village….'

Belle looked up through eyes that were far older than her eighteen years.

'That might be true,' she said softly. 'But I'll learn a lot by the way he answers.'

Maurice trailed her out of the door with severe misgivings.

The noise of fiddles and flutes, the cackles of laughter and the stamping of feet grew louder as they drew nearer to the square. Several people had given Belle odd looks but no-one had said anything. Maurice approached the square alone. Belle had dropped behind to speak to one of their neighbours and so it was Maurice who saw Gaston waiting at the edge of the square by the stables, scanning the crowd eagerly. Maurice hurried towards him through the shadows. Before he could reach him, a slight, ragged figure darted in between.

'Food and drink for the night?' Agatha pleaded. 'I'm very thirsty.' She held up a late blossoming rose. 'A flower for your lady for something to eat and drink?'

Maurice held his breath. He rarely saw Agatha himself but when their paths crossed, they spoke with courtesy to each other. He felt her to be an intelligent women who suffered from the harshness of life. Buoyed up by optimism and confidence, Gaston waved the rose aside.

'You don't need to pay for anything. Have whatever you like. Enjoy yourself!'

She smiled at him and held up the flower.

'Take it anyway. Give it to the one you love.' She slipped off into the crowd and was lost.

'Maurice!' Gaston spotted him and strode forward to grip his hand. 'Good of you to come. And where is….what in God's _name_ are you wearing? He let go of Maurice, staring over his shoulder. 'Go back home at once and get changed!' he hissed.

Shaken but defiant, Belle shook her head.

'I'm here and I'm wearing this.' She made to pass him but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. 'Please let go of me.' Her smile was forced.

'I don't understand.' He looked down at her with confusion that blended hurt and growing anger. 'What do you mean by this display?'

'What do I mean? Isn't it obvious? If you want to talk to me and dance with me, here I am. If you don't….fine. Will you please take your hand off me?'

'Are you _listening_ to me? I told you to go home and come back in something better!'

'How dare you try and tell me what to do, Gaston? You have no right at all!'

Gaston let go of her and gripped the wooden doorframe until it creaked under his fist. 'You're hysterical, Belle,' he said through gritted teeth. 'The last few days have been too much for you.'

'Hysterical?' Belle repeated unbelievingly. 'You fly into a rage because I'm wearing a simple old dress and you call _me_ hysterical?'

'You're a mad girl - '

'- You're not _clever_ enough to understand me!'

'Clever? Don't you know that the whole village is going to be looking at us?' He looked over his shoulder at the growing crowd and leaned down towards Belle so their faces were only a few inches apart. 'How could you _do_ this to me?'

'Why should they look?' Belle flashed back. 'I'm here to see my friends and maybe have a few dances. _I've_ given them no reason to look at me. What have _you_ said?'

'They'll look because I _love_ you.'

'You love _me_? That's a joke!' Belle was white hot with anger now. 'You can't even see past this old dress. If I'm not pretty and perfect, you're not interested, are you? Well, I'm not some pretty trophy for you to hunt!'

'No, that's not true, I….'

'It _is_ true! The only thing you cared about was what people thought,' she snapped.

'I _do_ love you! I have a flower for you.' He thrust the rose towards her. 'It's for the one I love.'

'Then I suggest you keep it,' she retorted. 'You won't find anyone you love more than yourself!' She turned on her heel and stalked away.

'Belle!' Gaston made to follow her but Maurice blocked his path. He turned to Maurice with an angry snarl, hands clenched into fists. 'You should teach your daughter some respect. A man has to be master in his own house, doesn't he?'

Maurice drew himself up to his fullest height and fixed with angry young man with a steady gaze.

'I do not find that, sir,' he replied with cold dignity. 'I was married for twelve happy years and we never once had such an argument. Our marriage was built on friendship, not mastery.'

'But I rescued her! I gave her flowers! I _love_ her. Don't I deserve some appreciation?' Baffled and angry, he paced like a huge cat. 'Any other woman would be falling over herself to show me she loved me,' he raged.

Belle's anger was white hot and fiery. Maurice's was as cold as a winter's night. 'My daughter's friendship was given without condition or restraint,' he said icily. 'I can only tell you how _disappointed_ I am to find yours was entirely selfish. As I told you before, if you cannot accept my daughter for who she is then I suggest you seek more congenial relationships with others.' He held out a hand to forestall Gaston's next comment. 'And I will advise her in the same way.' He noticed that the captain looked stricken at that and for a second felt deeply sorry for the man who, in his own way, loved Belle and yet fell hopelessly short of understanding or deserving her. 'If you will excuse me now, I will go back to my daughter. I feel she needs me.'

Gaston looked at him sharply, started to say something and then changed his mind. He scowled and turned away from Maurice, arms crossed tightly, looking through the crowd. Maurice looked at the powerful hunched shoulders and quivering muscles.

'I am sure that you will not take out your anger on other people,' Maurice told him coldly. 'When we first met, I considered you to be an _honorable_ man.'

Gaston punched the stables with a blow that splintered the wood under his fist and stalked off.


	10. Chapter 10 Burn the Witch

Thank you for all the reviews! I love to hear what people think and I'm really thrilled that you picked up the idea that Belle and Gaston might have quite a bit in common and both have made some mistakes. They have to navigate a very patriarchal society which has certain expectations for both of them. I see them as quite alike in being fearless, independent and loving stories even if Gaston prefers to tell them and Belle prefers to read them. Of course, two very strong-minded people can lead to fireworks.

Thanks for the interest in how Belle, Gaston and Maurice are working on the enchanted objects together. They're going to be making a lot of progress on that in the next few chapters.

I hope you enjoy this one!

Belle lay across her bed, sobbing. Her head was buried in her arms. Maurice set a candle down on the little cupboard and sat down beside her.

'I've lost him, Papa,' she cried.

'Oh my darling. He was never good enough for you.' He rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. Not for the first time in twelve years of raising a daughter alone he felt truly out of his depth. _If only Helene were here._

'I d-don't know if I would have m-married him,' Belle choked on her tears and sat up enough to wipe her eyes. 'But it feels like I lost my _friend_.' She threw herself down on the bed again. 'Everyone's very…very kind here but I never had a real friend before to have secrets with and laugh with and make p-plans.'

Maurice sighed. 'Oh, Belle. You're a good girl, a kind girl. Everyone likes you. You'll find other friends. Good friends. There are nice boys and girls here.'

'But they won't be Ga-…they won't be _him_. They all want to do ordinary things. No-one ever brought me a map and asked me to go to Paris with them before. No-one ever said I was brave or wanted my help in an adventure. No-one ever said they _loved_ me before. I mean, apart from you.' She sighed miserably, sniffed and slumped onto her arms. 'Do you think he really loved me?'

'I think so,' Maurice said fairly. 'But that doesn't mean you have to like him in return,' he added hastily. There's no obligation whatsoever. He's _not_ the man for you. You're perfectly right to want someone who will treat you with respect.'

Belle nodded once to show she understood and burst into tears again.

Maurice spent the next few hours pacing the small house. He sat by Belle for at least an hour, trying to persuade her that Gaston was unworthy of her. When she had agreed to go to bed and try and rest, Maurice found himself unable to sit down. The noise from the square drifted towards them distantly; shouts and yells that sounded almost demonic. He checked the bolts on the doors and windows again. Free flowing beer and anger were a terrible combination. Finally he sat down in the darkened kitchen, tense with anticipation.

Booming knocks on the door made him sit bolt upright but he didn't move. The thunderous knocks came again. The door to Belle's room opened a crack and she slipped through. Maurice put a finger to his lips. Even in the darkness, she saw and understood.

'Open up!' It was Le Fou's voice, decidedly slurred. They listened. There was no sound of other voices; only a horse stamping its feet. 'Open up, please!' This time his voice was shrill with fear. As stealthily as he could, Maurice crossed to the window and peered out. He could see the shadowy form of Le Fou slumped against the door and pounding on it.

'Please!' Le Fou's voice cracked with anxiety. 'You've got to save her!'

Maurice carefully opened the window, motioning Belle to stay back. With the window open, the shouts came clearly. The smell of wood smoke drifted into the little house.

'Save who?'

Le Fou looked up, caught sight of Maurice at the window and hurried over the grab the sill. In the moonlight, Maurice could see a deep cut on the man's temple and blood pouring down his cheek.

'My God, Monsieur; what happened?'

'Caught m'head on the b'kery sign,' Le Fou muttered. He swayed slightly and looked up at Maurice through glassy eyes. 'They're burning Agatha for a witch!'

Maurice threw back the bolts on the door and dragged Le Fou inside. The man was swaying noticeably now, barely able to stand. Maurice thrust him towards Belle.

'Bolt the doors when I'm gone and look after him,' he instructed, struggling into his coat. 'I'm going to take his horse.'

'No!' Belle protested. 'I heard that. I'm coming with you to help!' She took hold of Le Fou. 'Will you saddle Philippe? I'll be ready by the time you've saddled him.'

'Absolutely not!' Maurice commanded. 'It's far too dangerous.'

'Not if I'm on Philippe,' she countered. 'Please go, Papa! There's no time to waste.'

The mob was already howling for blood and dragging Agatha out towards the gates of the town when the two riders dashed up. The bonfire in the square was broken and trampled, burning brands dragged out to form torches. Screams and cheers rang through the night. In the centre of the heaving crowd, they could just make out Agatha, struggling against the crowd and crying out in fear. Some of the men had muskets trained at her head. Belle and Maurice shouted for all they were worth but their cries went unheard in the din. Belle looked across the heads of the crowd.

'I can't see Gaston anywhere!'

'I'm sure he's fine!' Maurice struggled to hold a skittish Mon Ami who was desperate to flee to his stables.

'He's the only one people listen to!' Belle shouted back over the noise of the crowd.

Maurice nodded. 'Let's find him - as fast as possible!' Turning their backs on the mob, they fled for the town, peering into alleys, over fences and behind walls.

Gaston leaned against the back wall of the stables, a flushed and giggling Laurette in the circle of his arms, her arms around his neck. He looked up, slightly surprised to see Maurice on Mon Ami but turned back to Laurette. Belle hesitated then tumbled off Philippe and ran to him, tugging at his sleeve.

'You've got to come quickly! Can't you hear them? Everyone's attacking Agatha. The whole village is there!'

'Attacking Agatha? They can't be,' he said dismissively. Laurette wound her fingers seductively in his hair and glared daggers at Belle.

'You have to save her!'

He didn't straighten up. 'Just because you want me to? Let Père Robert or one of your _clever_ people sort it out,' he sneered.

'Because I thought _you'd_ want to,' she cried. 'Because no matter what else, I _always_ thought you cared about the people here.' She turned away, tears running down her cheeks. She swung herself back onto Philippe. 'They're going to burn her! I'll save myself,' she declared.

'Burn her? Belle, wait!'

Maurice and Belle were already gone, galloping at full tilt through the village gates where fiery torches flared above a wild and screaming crowd. Men, women and children were waving scythes and pitchforks, forcing the riders to pull up short rather than run into them. The horses danced back on their hind legs as the scythes flashed dangerously close.

'You've got to stop,' Belle screamed and Maurice joined her, shouting as loudly as he could. They couldn't be heard above the noise of the crowd. Over their heads they could see Agatha already lashed to a makeshift stake with wood piled around her, struggling to free her hands from the ropes.

'Burn the witch!'

'Burn the hag!'

'You knew it, Belle!' One of the nearest women looked up at them. 'You found out there was magic going on round here. You said it this morning! Now we've got her. We're going to kill the witch for good!'

'No!' Belle tried again and again to force her way into the crowd but it was packed from shoulder to shoulder and armed with vicious blades. In the middle of the crowd, they could see the torch applied to the flames and the wood smoke, crackle and begin to leap up in thin, hungry tongues of fire.

Suddenly, with a clatter of hoof beats, an enormous black stallion flew past their shoulders. Horse and rider powered off the ground with a mighty leap, sending chucks of earth flying in all directions. The shouts of the crowd turned to terrified screams. Belle and Maurice held their breath as the huge horse drifted over the heads of the crowd, the weapons striking sparks against the iron-shod hooves. The stallion landed like a cat, hauled up by an insistent hand on the halter and the rider leaned down to slash the ropes open in a single movement. Agatha stumbled free, beating out the flames from the hem of her dress. Gaston reached down and dragged her safely up behind him.

The crowd screamed, hoarse and angry, baulked of their prey.

'Kill the witch!' 'We're not safe while she's alive!' 'She'll take the children!'

The horse jogged on the spot, trying to get away from the growing fire and the ring of threatening steel. Gaston circled, keeping himself between Agatha and the crowd.

'This poor, unfortunate woman? She's no witch.'

'Look at her eyes,' a woman shouted. 'She's not afraid of us. She's going to kill us all!'

Maurice and Belle watched helplessly as Gaston searched the crowd for a way through the pitchforks and burning torches that encircled them. He made one last attempt at calming the crowd.

'You've seen her all your lives. She's one of us!'

'She's _never_ been one of us!' The crowd surged towards him and a figure darted out, swinging a scythe towards Agatha with all of its strength. The blade caught Gaston across the chest and he slumped forward. In the dull and smoky light, his chest was darkening with a line of blood.

Belle screamed as Maurice had never heard her scream in all his life. Seizing a flaming torch, she pushed through the crowd, forcing them to either side with the flame. Maurice followed in her wake and Père Robert and some of the other wiser men managed to push through into the centre. Before they made it to the centre, Gaston slid off Magnifique's back and crumpled to the ground.

In the heart of the storm, the fire was raging, burning up the empty stake and snapping at every coat or skirt that came near it. With no saddle Agatha was struggling to stay on Magnifique's glossy back and the crowd bayed for blood. A shower of stones flew overhead and Robert redoubled his efforts to be heard. Belle threw herself off Philippe and over Gaston, sobbing her heart out. Only Maurice and Agatha could see how hard she clung to Gaston, pressing her hands against his chest to stem the blood. To Maurice it seemed that when he opened his eyes, he looked at Belle as a drowning man looks at an outstretched hand.

Agatha leaned down from the horse, her eyes hard and bright with tears.

'I forgive them everything!' she burst out. 'You must come with me to the castle. I _will_ save them.' She ducked under another volley of stones. 'I know the secret of the rose but the time is growing short! You must come with me to find the hidden rose and lead out the innocent.' She shook her hair loose from its cap and stared up at the stars that were hidden by smoke. 'The time is far shorter than I thought and I may not pass this way again.'

'I don't understand what - ' Maurice began.

'Go, Papa!' Belle cried. 'I don't understand either but you've got to save them!'

'And you too, Belle,' Agatha urged. 'You alone can find the rose. They will trust you when they trust no-one else!'

'No!' Belle shook her head wildly. 'No, I'm staying here with him. I won't leave him!'

Gaston heaved himself to his feet. He swayed and caught Philippe's saddle to support himself. Belle flew to tuck herself under his arm and help him stand. In the darkness he looked very pale. He hung onto Belle and leaned against the saddle, panting with the effort, blood still spreading across his shirt.

'Go with them, Belle,' he ordered her. His voice was husky with pain and he pressed his free hand to his chest. 'I don't know what's going on here but go with her. Get her out of this!'

'I'm not leaving you here!' She clung to him, blinded by tears.

'Don't worry about me,' he told her with a smile that was undermined by his terrible pallor. 'It's…just a scratch.'

'It has to be you, Belle,' Agatha insisted. 'You must win their trust and find the rose!'

'I don't…' she sobbed. 'I don't _want_ to leave you.'

'I know you'll come back.' For the first time, that didn't ring of Gaston's overwhelming confidence in himself. It rang of a faith in Belle. He let go of Philippe and put the reins in Belle's hand. He stumbled and caught Mon Ami's shoulder to support himself and for a moment, looked up at Maurice with an inarticulate searching expression.

Maurice understood. Leaning down, he gripped Gaston's shoulder for a moment with a slight smile that was all in the crinkled eyes.

A stone intended for Agatha flew over Philippe and hit Maurice squarely in the shoulder, catching him unawares. Gaston swept a final look around the three horses.

'Agatha, go!' he commanded and Agatha clapped her heels to Magnifique's side, wheeled around and urged the horse out past the flames where the crowd was thinnest. The black stallion sprang away into the darkness. Mon Ami made to follow Magnifique but was held back by a commanding hand on his shoulder for a few seconds.

Gathering his remaining strength, Gaston pushed himself away from the horse.

'Get after her! She's stealing him.' The crowd heard him and most of the boys peeled off in useless pursuit. Maurice and Belle flew after Agatha at full gallop and the crowd gave them a cheer. The last thing they saw was Gaston sinking to his knees, too weak to stand any longer.


	11. Chapter 11 Repaying the Debt

Thanks for the reviews! They're about to enter the castle…but Belle came and left in a day here so the Beast isn't going to be quite as trusting.

I'm basing the characters (and everything else) mainly on the 2017 film but with a definite 1991 influence too on their personalities and looks. Hope you all enjoy it!

In the moonlight on the dark road, Agathe looked younger than ever. Her hair streamed wildly behind her. The rags she wore fluttered in the wind like the wings of a wild bird. The torches and shouts of the town were left far behind. She turned to the riders beside her.

'He was wrong, you know,' she said quite conversationally. 'I am a witch.'

Maurice almost pulled Mon Ami up involuntarily. Beside him he heard Belle gasp with shock.

'I am a witch,' she repeated. She stared ahead, her face split between bright moonlight and dark shadows. Her eyes glittered - with anger or tears, Maurice couldn't tell.

'Did _you_ put the curse on them?' Belle asked tentatively.

'Hah! Yes, I put a curse on them all. On the selfish prince and foolish servants.' She grimaced. 'But I forgive them! If the prince has not been able to learn from his mistakes in ten years, _I_ can.

'I'm sure he's very sorry,' Belle ventured. 'For whatever he did.' She looked sideways at Agathe. 'He seemed very unhappy,' she said earnestly.

'He turned me away,' Agathe said bitterly. 'I offered him a rose in return for shelter from the rain. He stood there, all in gold and lace in his fine ballroom and laughed in my face. I transformed him into a beast, terrible to behold. All who saw him fled in terror, if they were able. For years, those servants stood by in silence and allowed their master to become a monster. For their punishment I turned them into the little object a castle holds. Their punishment is bound to his.'

'But you should meet them,' Belle cried. 'They're very kind, really, especially Monsieur Lumière and Mrs. Potts. And Mrs. Potts has a little boy called Chip. He's only young! What could he have said to the Prince to stop him?'

Agathe sighed. 'I was vengeful,' she said. 'I admit it. But as a prince's power extends over all his subjects, so must his punishment. You said that they were kind? If they, poor inhuman objects that they were, were able to love each other and be loved in return, what could he have done? I cursed him to learn, for ten years, to offer love and find love in return or else remain a beast forever. What has he done? Buried himself in the depths of the castle; too proud to love a servant! And so he would have remained a beast forever, but for tonight.'

'For tonight?'

'You know that I have never truly belonged to the village here. For years I sat by on the edges, for years an outcast and beggar; the lowest of the low. Tonight a man I believed arrogant and thoughtless saved a beggar woman. When you see him again, you must tell him this: my debt is paid by the lifting of the spell.'

'But why couldn't you free yourself?' Maurice wanted to know. 'Surely you had the power to escape at any time. Was there…any need for that at all?'

'My hands were tied and their iron weapons were at my head,' Agathe said flatly. 'Nothing can charm iron.'

'But…if you don't mind me asking,' Belle said hesitantly. 'Why did you live that way? I mean, the way you've been living until now. People…pushed you aside in the streets. You had to sit in the rain!'

'I've never been one for towns and castles nor for anything made by hands. I live in the woods more than any other place. They speak to me; all the living things there.' She smiled slightly. 'Better that ones like me touch the earth lightly. But you're a kind girl. You brought me bread when you had little to spare for yourselves.' She reached between them and touched Belle's hand. 'Maybe your children or your grandchildren will see me again. I will remember you.'

Belle stared at Philippe's ears for a few moments without speaking. She looked at Agathe; looked away and then back again. 'Can you see the future?' she asked very quietly.

'We make our futures moment by moment,' Agathe returned. 'But I see meetings and partings in yours. Roads and a great city. Children beside you; a man standing behind you.'

'Who?' Belle demanded eagerly.

Agathe shook her head. 'The future is made of mist.' She turned unexpectedly. 'For you, Maurice, I see three stags and a doe. Enough now!' She held up her hand. 'No doubt there will be happy endings but these things aren't for me to see or you to hear. Too much knowledge of the future is as dangerous as poison.' She narrowed her eyes at the trees alongside the road and suddenly urged Magnifique into the forest. Their paths slowed in the darkness and they rode in single file. The hoof beats were muffled by the wet fallen leaves that blanketed the ground.

'Is this the old road to the castle?' Maurice whispered. The trees seemed to be leaning in to listen to them. Agathe nodded. There was an uncanny silence in the forest. Even the trees seemed to hold still against the wind as the golden haired lady rode past. He turned to look at Belle, riding behind him. Her eyes were distant, hands loose on the reins.

'How are you holding up, Belle?' he called softly.

She seemed to start out of a dream. 'I'm well, Papa. I was just thinking….'

'Put thoughts of the future out of your mind.' Agathe's voiced floated back to them. 'The future is made, not given. Now listen. The rose lies in the west wing of the castle…'

The three stood at the foot of the great gates and looked up. The iron gates of the castle loomed high above them, locked and barred against their entry. Staring at the gates, Maurice was overwhelmed with a sense of déjà vu.

'This is where I stay,' Agathe announced, settling herself down on a convenient tree stump.

'But…what about the gates?' Belle asked in confusion. 'I thought you were going to help us get through the gates.'

'I told you,' she said rather grumpily. 'The rose is the castle and the castle is the rose. It cannot be stolen or torn away. The spell is delicate enough as it is. The prince alone must carry it out to me. If they don't leave of their free will, they will not leave at all. Oh, I could tear down these gates,' she gestured grandly. 'Melt them like ice in summer! But they would tremble and run from the sight of my power. Bring them out to me seeking forgiveness and I will forgive them. Ask no more of me! This castle was not here when I was young. This forest was not here when I was born!' Her eyes burned and a wind from nowhere rose up and buffeted them. Around Agathe, there was a wild golden glow both beautiful and terrible.

Belle and Maurice backed away, afraid yet mesmerized. Belle tried to speak, failed, swallowed hard and tried again.

'I think I can climb the gates,' she volunteered bravely. She reached a hand as high as she could on the cold wrought iron.

'Wait,' Agathe commanded. She smiled slightly. 'You have done me many small kindnesses in the past. There is one I can do in return.' She rose and set a hand on the gates, whispering to them. Belle and Maurice fell back to either side as her muttering grew louder. She shaped the air with her hands, the light growing stronger around her again. Suddenly she raised both hands in the air, bathed in a golden glow and at the foot of the gates, roses twined around the metal. They grew, curling onto the gates, reaching upwards until a great spray of white roses on sturdy branches covered the gates, decking it out as if for a wedding. Agathe let her hands fall with a satisfied smile and turned to Belle. 'A rose without thorns, my dear. Let it remind you that love isn't always painful.'

Belle gasped, nodded suddenly and reached for the first branch with absolute faith. Climbing the rose was as easy as climbing a staircase. As they hurried up the causeway beyond the gate, Belle looked back, murmuring to herself.

'What did you say, my dear?'

'I'm just trying to remember all this,' she said softly. 'I think I'll remember these things for the rest of my life.'

Belle pushed the great door open a crack and slipped inside. The hall was dark and the huge fireplace bare. Shadows hung on the walls.

'Hello?' She called softly. 'Is anyone there?'

The whispering began in another room. A light flickered under a door and disappeared.

'It's me, Belle. I've come back!'

A door creaked open and a streak of golden light ran across the room. Each step clinked on the stones. Behind him, a slower clock clattered across the floor, bouncing from foot to foot.

'Oh, Mademoiselle! You have come back to us.' He turned to the clock behind him. 'See? I told you she was the one.'

Belle knelt, taking his tiny hand in her own.

'Yes, I've come back. We've found a way to save you!'

'Only love - true love - can save us.' Behind him Cogsworth nodded dolefully. Lumière looked up. 'You _have_ come back to the Master, haven't you, Mademoiselle?'

'Well, yes and no,' Belle admitted. 'I've come back for all of you. We know the secret! We're going to get everyone out of the castle and she'll turn you all back.'

'She?' Cogsworth asked suspiciously.

'The witch…oh please don't go!' Cogsworth had already turned to leave. Lumière sank down helplessly, his lights dimming.

'She promised to forgive everyone,' Belle assured them, her voice animated with sincerity. 'My…friend saved her life. She promised she would lift the spell in return. All you have to do is walk out to her at the gates and tell her how sorry you are.'

The servants exchanged a look.

'That's not all she wants,' Cogsworth predicted gloomily. 'Not from a witch.'

Lumière gave her a sharp look. 'You didn't…promise anything else to her? Your firstborn child? Your soul? Believe me, Mademoiselle, we are not worth it! We would not have you give up these things for the whole world.'

'No! No, it's just because my, my friend saved her.' Belle stumbled over the words and rushed on. 'The only problem is, we have to persuade the prince - he is a prince, isn't he? to bring the rose out of the castle to her.'

The servants deflated with a sigh. Cogsworth shook his head.

'It was a pleasant dream while it lasted.' He hopped off slowly into the shadows. Lumière remained behind, his eyes downcast.

'Are you certain you could not…find it in your heart to love him? Perhaps one tiny kiss?' There was a note of desperation in his voice.

Belle raised her chin and straightened her shoulders.

'There's a lot of ways people can show love. What does a kiss mean compared to a real sacrifice? She's willing to break her own spell and she's waiting outside the gates. If you don't believe me, look outside. Don't you see the roses? The castle is changing already. We _can_ do this. I'll speak to him myself for as long as it takes.' She held his gaze. 'Won't you help everyone, please? We have to do this together.'

Lumière strode bravely to the front door, shielding his flames from the wind as best as he could. He stared into the darkness.

'I see nothing,' he apologized. 'Monsieur, will you hold me up? I wish to get a better view.'

Maurice obligingly picked him up. The little metal man was surprisingly heavy in his hand. Maurice could feel the jagged edges of his jacket pressing against his hand. Lumière rested his sharp elbows on Maurice's fingers and leaned forward. In the distance, roses gleamed like pearls under the moonlight.

'I see them.' He sounded shaken. 'I didn't think…we would see such a sign. We were punished because the master would not accept a rose. See how many roses she brings us now.' Maurice set him gently down on the floor again. 'Cogsworth… _Cogsworth! We are saved!_ ' He turned back to Belle and Maurice, jumping from foot to foot. 'I'll gather them together and spread the good news.'

'I'll go and speak to the prince,' Belle said bravely.

'Surely he will listen to you… _Cogsworth! Where are you_? I'll go and…oh.'

'Is something wrong?'

'Why, yes.' The face of the candlestick had fallen. 'You see…we are fortunate, Cogsworth and I and a few others. We have arms and legs of a sort. We can move freely. Will Madame _le sorceresse_ not come to us? You see, some of us cannot go to her.'

'Oh.' Belle and Maurice exchanged looks. 'I'm afraid she…said she wouldn't.' Belle ran her hands through her hair.

'We'll get everyone out,' Maurice assured them with a determination he didn't know he had. 'We won't leave anyone behind. If we help each other, that will go a long way and for the rest, we'll see what we can do with pulleys and rollers. This is the age of invention, you know.'

'Oh yes!' Belle lit up. 'Papa is an inventor. He can _build_ a way out for people.'

'Right.' Maurice took charge. 'Belle and I will go and speak to the prince and we'll all start getting people out. Shall we assemble here before we go out of the gates?'

'Yes, Monsieur. You will find him in the west wing. Off that way and up the stairs. Oh, what a night!' Lumière danced off into the hallway, beaming from ear to ear.'

As they climbed the stairs, the castle began to seem alive with voices that called and echoed across the halls. Little objects scampered across the floors, clattering and tinkling while heavy furniture thumped and scraped. The corridor Lumière had indicated, on the other hand, was silent. Doors at the end of the corridor stretched above them, higher than them both put together. Belle set her hand cautiously on the door and it yielded easily. As they crept in the corridor darkened around them. Cobwebs clung to the dusty walls and furniture finer than they had ever seen lay tossed aside and broken. Maurice eyed one table closely. Claw marks an inch deep were gouged into the wood.

'Let me speak to him alone, first, my dear,' he said quietly.

'But he threw you into a cell, Papa,' she objected. 'I think I might be able to get him to understand.'

'Just while he gets over the first surprise of seeing us.' Maurice was reluctant to mention the claw marks to Belle. 'If you will stay back here…'

A growl reverberated around the corridor. Maurice and Belle froze where they stood.

'Why have you come to disturb me?' The Beast unfolded his huge form from the shadows. His fur was matted and dull. The clothes he wore hung in rags where he had raked at them with his claws.

Belle recovered her voice first. She stepped forward a little so a faint pink glow from the chamber beyond could throw light on her face.

'It's me,' she said gently. 'I've come back, your…your Highness.'

'Who told you I was a prince?' The Beast snarled.

'Agathe,' Belle answered automatically.

'Agathe? Who's Agathe?'

'We knew her as Agathe in our town,' Maurice explained. 'However, tonight, we discovered she was a witch. Your title was something she let slip as we rode here. It has been…a night of revelations to us all.'

'She's waiting outside the gate,' Belle rushed on. 'If you'd like to come outside with us…'

'Outside?' He broke in. 'So she can curse me again?' He laughed bitterly. 'What more can she do to me? In just a few weeks or months, the final petal will fall and I'll be a beast for the rest of my life.'

'No, no, you won't be,' she reassured him. 'She's ready to forgive everyone and undo the spell!'

The Beast blinked uncertainly. 'Undo the spell? That's impossible.'

'She put it on everyone in the first place,' Maurice pointed out. 'All she wants you to do is to bring the rose out to her along with everyone in the castle. She's waiting just beyond the gates.'

The Beast shook his great head violently. 'No! What, do you think I can trust a witch? This is a trick of hers. It can't be done.' He turned on them, snarling. 'She brought you here. Am I a spectacle now? Have you come to mock my misery? I tell you, it can't be done!'

'It _can_ be,' Belle insisted bravely.

'It _can't_ be.' The Beast turned away slowly. He buried his face in his huge paws. 'Go!'

They stayed.

'I told you to go!' The Beast clenched a fist.

' _Please_ come with us,' Belle invited in her gentlest way.

'Go!' He whirled around and they saw tears in his eyes. 'I'm lost. Do whatever you will in the rest of the castle but leave me here. I can't trust a witch who cursed men, women, children and animals even if you can.' Seizing their hands in a surprisingly gentle grip, he towed them back along the corridor. 'Go home. Live the rest of your lives in peace. Try not to remember me. My name is lost already.' The doors slammed close and beyond them they could hear the thud and scrape of heavy furniture being piled up against them.

'We're not finished yet,' Belle announced with determination.

'No, we're not, my dear,' Maurice agreed. 'Let us try and rescue the fixed objects. We can ask his closest friends to speak to him again.'

By the great doors, the servants were gathering and chattering with an excitement that made Maurice's heart ache. As he stopped to let a few plates roll past, Belle was ahead of him, picking her way carefully through towards the familiar form of Mrs. Potts, perched high on a trolley. By the time Maurice reached them the good lady clearly understood the problem.

'Not to worry, dear,' she told them confidently. 'We'll all have a talk with him too. Chin up!'

'Thank you!' She turned to Maurice. 'Papa, let's try to get the Chef out. He's in the kitchen.'

The Chef turned out to be an enormous range. It took all of Maurice's ingenuity to plan a route upwards and out of the kitchens. Helped out by two hulking stone gargoyles who were unable to speak but, the others assured them, were Michael and Gregory, they dragged him onto rollers.

'Heave!'

The trip up the stairs took even greater planning. Madame Le Garderobe gave the strongest cloth she had to fashion pulleys.

'Heave!'

With twenty strong servants underneath, pushing for all they were worth and twenty more including Maurice and Belle hauling away on the pulleys, the edges of the huge stove began to tilt up. Counterweights dropped. Lumière leaped onto them to weight them down. The final edge came off the ground. The Chef hovered in midair and gradually, imperceptibly began to rise. More helping hands piled in and finally the Chef was dragged into the entrance hall amid cheers and applause. He rolled to a halt near the doors.

When he spoke, it was in the voice of knives, harsh and metallic but there was a tone of wonder that showed the man's soul underneath.

'I haven't seen the sky in ten years,' he said.


	12. Chapter 12 Down the Well

Hours later, Belle and Maurice were both sweating. Finding some of the voiceless servants was difficult by itself. A few were only able to jump up and down, clanging or knocking against things or even, Maurice remembered one poor fellow, by flushing themselves repeatedly. Lumière, Mrs. Potts, a beautiful feather duster named Plumette, Madame Le Garderobe and her friend in the form of a harpsichord had all tried to persuade the Beast to emerge with the rose with no success.

Belle pushed the hair out of her eyes as they emerged from the servants' quarters into a yard dominated by a large well. She scanned it briefly.

'Hello? Anyone here?' She turned to Maurice. 'If only we knew his name. It must be part of the curse. He must feel as if no-one cares about him.'

' _Nil desperandum_ , my dear. There must be some records. Maybe there's something in the….what was that?' Maurice broke off, hearing a faint cry for help that echoed strangely.

'Help! Someone help me, please! I'm right here!'

They looked around. Maurice jumped to a conclusion. He leaned over the edge of the well as far as he dared.

'Are you in the well?'

'The hook broke!' The owner of the faint voice burst into tears. 'I fell off the bottom of the rope. I'm stuck!' She sounded very young.

'Oh my goodness. The poor thing!' Belle leaned over the edge. 'Alone at the bottom of a well.' She tugged the rope. 'It seems strong; I'm going to see what I can see.'

'You won't see anything down there,' said Maurice practically. 'Tell her we're coming for her. I'm going to get some light.'

When he returned with the ever helpful Lumière, Belle was already clinging to the rope with her hands and knees, head invisible from the edge of the well, reassuring the lost bucket.

'Can you hold onto my belt?' Maurice sat on the edge and reached out for the rope. 'Watch out above you, Belle. I'm coming too.' Lumière leaped for his belt and threaded a hand through securely.

'No, Papa!' She looked up at him. 'Stay there! You were ill a few days ago and it's very damp down here. Can Monsieur Lumière climb down to me?'

'Keep going, my dear; I'm just above you.' The cold and damp were making his chest ache again but he was determined not to let Belle go down into the unknown darkness alone. The huge stone sides of the well curved around them, slightly wider across than Maurice was tall. The air smelled of cold mud and stagnant water. As they dropped away from the moonlight and the shadows of the walls closed in, Lumière's lights cast only a faint circle around them. He could see very little beyond the rough rope he was holding. They kept going.

'It must be a very old well,' Maurice panted. 'Look how far down it goes.'

'I can't believe we aren't at the end of the rope yet,' Belle agreed. 'Hello? Can you see us yet? I _aargh!_ ' There was a scream and a splash followed by a cry of pain.

'Belle!' Maurice let himself fall faster than he should, the rope sliding through his hands. 'Are you… _aargh!'_ The last few feet of the rope were slippery with mud and shot through his hands. He fell blindly and splashed down in cold mud and fallen leaves.

'Papa! Are you alright!' It was a miracle he hadn't fallen onto Belle. She must have had the sense to scramble out from under the rope.

'I'm fine…fine, my dear,' he said shakily. 'Are _you_ hurt?'

She touched her hand to her head. 'I slipped and hit the wall a little when I fell. It's nothing.'

'Let me see!' He pushed back her hair gently. Lumière scrambled unprompted onto his shoulder and leaned forward. There was a graze with a light trickle of blood. 'Oh, Belle.' He wrapped his arms around her.

'It's nothing, Papa,' she said with a brave smile. She pressed the edge of her sleeve to the cut. 'I'm fine. But….' she looked up at the slippery rope that began well above their arms reach, '….I think we're stuck.'

'That's where I fell from,' said a tearful voice in the corner. Maurice started and spotted a heavy wooden bucket lying on its side in the mud. He pulled it upright. Large eyes carved into the wood blinked up at him. 'The hook broke,' it said again. 'It was really dark and I cried and cried and no-one came!'

Belle knelt down next to it, wrapping her arms around the wooden sides.

'Don't worry,' she said kindly. 'We'll think of something. We'll make sure you're safe. What's your name? Mine is Belle.'

'I know,' she sniffed wetly. 'He called you that. I'm not stupid. My name is Marie.'

'Oh, Marie. Don't worry. Everything will be alright. We just have to work out what to do next.' Belle wrapped her arms tighter around the weeping bucket. 'There _must_ be a way out,' she reassured her. She looked up at the dangling edge of the rope, thick with slippery mud.

'I _think_ ,' Lumière said, 'that if you could get me to the rope, I would be able to get out and return with reinforcements.'

'Good man!' Maurice measured the distance. 'Belle, my dear, do you think you could stand on my shoulders? Between us that should do the trick.' He leaned against the wall and made a stirrup of his hands. Belle leaped nimbly up from his hand to his shoulders, steadying herself against the rough stone wall. He shook a little under her weight and braced his knees. She was nearly as tall as he was now. Lumière scrambled between them, blowing the flames near his hands out.

'That's it, Mademoiselle,' he encouraged. 'Just a bit higher….and a little bit more. I have to get past this mud…that's it!' He clung onto the rope, digging his hands in. 'Adieu for now, _mes amis_. I will return!'

They settled down to wait. It would take the little candlestick a long time to make the ascent. Without the light, the cold and darkness seemed worse. _This poor, poor child_. Maurice crouched next to the young bucket.

'Tell us about yourself, my dear. Do you have any family in the castle?'

'No,' she sniffed again. 'I'm an orphan. My auntie works here.' A few tears fell from the corner of her eyes and splashed inside the bucket. 'I want to see Sophie again and Celeste and the kittens. I haven't seen them for so long. Do you live here too?'

'It's rather a long story, my dear.' Maurice drew his cloak tighter around him. 'But we do have plenty of time.'

The explanation took some time. Marie had never been allowed to set eyes on the prince. She knew him by reputation only as a man handsome and wealthy beyond her wildest dreams. She knew nothing of the rose and the events which had led to it. For Marie, the world had changed when she had gone out in the darkness of a very early morning to draw water from the well, felt dizzy, had seen the world go dark and had woken as a bucket dangling halfway down the well. For nearly ten years, the well had been her world. She told them about the family of snails she had seen crawling up and down the sides of the well and how the clouds above her sometimes looked like angels and sometimes like cake. Eventually, worn out by talking, she yawned.

'You _will_ wake me up when something happens, won't you?' she asked anxiously.

'Of course we will,' Belle assured her warmly. Marie gave a shiver that shook her planks, yawned again and closed her eyes. Left alone in the darkness, Belle and Maurice shivered themselves. The night was growing colder and they were past their ankles in cold mud.

'Lean against me, my dear.' Maurice wrapped his cloak around them both. He could feel her shaking with the cold. He knew he was himself. Time passed slowly.

'You don't think…' Belle began and hesitated. 'Papa, you don't think Agathe might get _impatient_ do you?'

'No, surely not.' Maurice coughed. The damp was worse than the cold for his chest and breathing was becoming a strain. 'I'm sure she isn't counting the time at all,' he said with all the conviction he could muster. 'She did say she liked the forest and she set no time limit on us.'

'Yes,' she said. 'Yes. I'm sure you're right.' She sighed and shivered deeply, stamping her feet to try and warm them up. 'I'm glad about that. It just feels as if we've been down here for a long time. How long do you think we've been at the castle?'

'It's hard to tell. Perhaps five hours, give or take a bit. That's not including the time we took to ride to the castle, of course. I wasn't counting exactly but it took rather a long time to extricate the chef.'

'That poor man! I'm glad he's out of the kitchen at least.' She looked up at the distant patch of sky. 'I can't wait to see them all turned back. Imagine how happy they'll be! I wonder if they have a lot of friends and family around Villeneuve.'

'Oh, I'm sure they do. A lot of them will be local men and women. Ga -,' he stopped suddenly. 'A lot of people are bound to recognize them.'

'I know what you were going to say,' she said. 'Papa, seriously, what do you think of him after tonight? What do you think I should _do_?'

'Earlier in the evening I would have said it would be best for you to see as little as possible of each other,' Maurice said judiciously. 'After this, I think we certainly owe him a visit. I understand you were…very concerned for his safety. As was I, of course. It would be reasonable to visit him once or twice. We'll want to talk about what happened here.' He took her cold hands in his own, fighting for breath. 'But my dear, I think you need to be rational. A single action, heroic as it was, does not make a man into a paragon of any kind. Perhaps you _both_ need to appreciate each other's strengths and weaknesses…at a distance.'

'But it was brave,' Belle countered. 'It was different to everyone else in town, too. He wasn't part of the mob. He expected people to be better.' A shadow blocked the sky and the rope began to shake as someone made their way down. 'Oh, thank goodness. Someone's coming! I'm so glad! I want you to come up to a fire as soon as you can.'

'He expected them to do as he said.' Belle started to say something but he cut her off. 'I'm sorry if that sounds unkind, my dear, but it's the truth. I respect the idea behind it but the fact remains, he issues orders to people and expects admiration.'

'You don't think that making a huge effort to help someone you don't even like might be admirable?'

'This is playing devil's advocate. We'll move, Belle,' Maurice said slightly desperately. 'Let me take you to a bigger town. We'll manage, somehow. God knows I don't want to lose you to anyone but you deserve to meet pleasant, educated, _gentle_ young men. If the only young man in town whose courage and convictions you could respect is one who tries to ride roughshod over you…' They both looked up at the little spark of light that was growing stronger.

'I promised I'd go back to him, Papa,' she said stubbornly. 'I have to make sure he's alright. I have to see him.'

The shadow reached the end of the rope and dropped down into the mud beside them.

'I've come to save you!' Gaston announced.

Maurice fell back against the wall, speechless with shock. For a moment he tried to speak and could get nothing out. Belle stumbled back a couple of paces then threw herself at Maurice, eyes wide.

'Papa! You're alright, are you?'

'Yes, yes!' He coughed heavily. 'Just a shock,' he mumbled.

'Belle! Maurice!' Gaston took a swift stride through the muddy water, kicking the bucket by accident. Marie woke with a sharp cry. Caught by surprise, Gaston cursed and jumped backwards.

Belle pressed her hands against her temples in disbelief. 'Is it really you? Oh… _Gaston_!'

'I know what you're going to say,' he assured her, eyes fixed on hers. He set his lantern down in the mud and held out his hands to her. 'Just when you needed a hero…'

'I get you. You…you _idiot!_ ' She took his hands, looking up at him. 'What are you _doing_? You almost died!'

'You think I'm an….what…..Aren't you pleased to see me?' Gaston was plainly confused, rapidly shading into hurt.

'Yes, I'm pleased to see you. Of course I'm pleased! And I'm excited about saving people and getting them home to their families and you're here and you're going to help and that's wonderful.' She took a deep breath. 'But I'm also worried about finding everyone and getting them turned back and worried that Papa is ill and now there's this huge extra thing that I'm scared that _you're_ hurt and this is too much effort for you…'

'You were feeling all that at once?' He looked suitably impressed. 'I understand you're overwhelmed. Don't worry about anything now. I'm here. You can thank me later.'

'Gaston! Did you hear what I just said?' she demanded.

'Yes! You're pleased to see me,' he grinned.

'And the rest?' she prompted.

'Er…something about saving people? And…Maurice is ill,' he managed. 'Oh, and you're worried about me but you needn't be.'

'I _do_ need to be.' She sighed. 'Somebody does. You almost died tonight!' She almost reached out to touch his chest where the blade had struck but drew back her hand. He was still wearing the bloodstained shirt. 'I would have come back,' she assured him. 'You _know_ I would have. You should be at home, resting!'

'Oh, I rested for a few hours. Then you weren't back so I thought you might be in trouble.'

'We're very grateful for your assistance,' Maurice said sincerely. Angry as he had been earlier, some things required wholehearted thanks and this was one of them. He was surprised himself that the captain was still standing up, let alone able to ride and climb but some experience of Gaston told him that this shouldn't be entirely unexpected.

'It was very brave,' Belle agreed, apparently settling on the one thing she could say without arguing. Gaston automatically preened. He surveyed the sides and bottom of the well.

'What were you doing down here anyway?'

'We came down to rescue her,' Belle explained, indicating the suddenly shy Marie. 'But it's impossible to get back up onto the first bit of the rope. You…shouldn't have dropped down like that. I'm afraid you're stuck, too.'

'Oh, it's no problem,' he said confidently, giving the silent bucket a long look.

'How are you going to do it without any more rope? It can't be done.'

'Like this!' He braced his shoulders and feet against the wall, took a deep breath and began to walk up the sides, pushing up with his hands on the rough stones until he was about shoulder height to them. 'Can you get up here, Maurice?'

'I think so. Will you give me a foothold, my dear…that's it.' Maurice pushed himself up from Belle's hands and scrambled onto Gaston.

'Can you get onto the rope?' Gaston's voice was strained and Maurice could feel him slipping slightly, bracing his feet to try and get a better grip. He stood up, running his hands along the damp wall.

'Not yet….almost…yes.' He took as firm a grip as he could in hands that were blue with the cold and pulled himself up. The effort made his gasp for breath but if there was any time he was determined to stay strong, it was now. He locked his hands and knees around the rope.

'Good…pass me that.' Gaston reached down awkwardly.

'That? I'm not that! I'm a girl!' Marie protested.

'Of course you are,' Belle told her warmly. With an effort she managed to lift the heavy bucket up to Gaston.

'There you are.' He took hold of her with both hands. 'I can see your eyes now. Of course you're a girl. No boys have pretty eyes like that.' Maurice wondered to himself why Gaston seemed to know exactly what to say to every girl except Belle. He threaded the rope through her handle and tossed the end up to Maurice. 'Make a knot in that.' He braced his shoulders again and reached down a second time. 'Belle, grab my hand. I'm going to swing you up.'

Looking down, Maurice could see Belle's dubious expression in the lantern light but she stretched up her hand to him.

'Now jump!' He pulled her up until she sprawled across him. Immediately she stood up, rocking unsteadily as she tried to balance on his legs. She bit her lip in determination and pulled herself onto the rope, going up strongly hand over hand until she was past Marie. 'Keep going,' he called. 'It might not take three people. I'll wait till you're at the top.'

They pulled themselves up the rope as quickly as they could. Maurice could hardly feel his feet but he hung on with his hands and knees. Every movement was one step closer to fresh air and then a proper warm fire for them all. He set both hands on the edge for a final effort and heaved himself over and onto the ground. Belle scrambled over a moment later and leaned back over. 'We're up!' she called. Lumière was there, jumping from foot to foot.

'So you are both safe! What a relief! Your big friend found you?'

'Yes, yes.' Belle was watching the rope and didn't turn around. She laughed, more from exhaustion and relief than because anything was funny. 'Our friend found us.' She leaned further over, shoulders tense. Eventually, Gaston dragged himself over the edge far more slowly than the Gaston of a few days ago would have done. He sat down on the edge of the well, resting his elbows on his knees for a moment, head bowed forward, getting his breath back.

'Oh, I knew you shouldn't have come.' Belle was at his side in a moment. Once again, Maurice saw the captain visibly torn between pride and basking in her concern. Surrounded by the enchanted castle, he chose pride.

'I'm fine. Absolutely fine.' He brushed some of the mud off his coat and made to stand up.

Maurice moved first. 'Just wait a moment while we get Marie up…' Quiet as he was, in over thirty years of trading Maurice had seen his fair share of drunkenness, sickness and fights. _Let him sit down for a moment_. He knew with absolute certainty that if the young man tried to stand he would be on his knees in a couple of paces. 'Belle, come round here - no this side, you'll get a better grip - and hold onto this. Now, pull together!' He watched Gaston out of the corner of his eye. He saw him touch a cautious hand to his ribs where the blade had struck hardest, look at his hand and then brush away the evidence.


	13. Chapter 13 Books and Cleverness

Another chapter up! There's a well-known quote buried in here to which JK Rowling has all the legal rights. I hope you enjoy this.

In the great entrance hall, by a fire, their damp clothes steamed. Around them, the castle's inhabitants - minus a certain crucial one - shuffled around them, chattering to each other in a desultory fashion. A large number of the more mobile servants were camping out at the door to the west wing, periodically attempting to persuade the prince to come out. A cart rattled up to them carrying a smiling teapot.

'How about a nice cup of tea, my dears? You all look chilled to the bone.'

Belle stood up, hastily. 'I shouldn't, really, thank you. I'll go and get started. We have to get the prince out. The next thing we need to do - '

'What you need is next is have a hot cup of tea my dear, with plenty of sugar,' the kind lady overrode her. 'There'll be enough time to deal with that stubborn young man later.'

'I want to give Belle her tea,' a little teacup with a cracked edge piped up. 'Can I? Can I?'

'Alright now.' She poured him full of steaming tea. 'Go and get some sugar from your sister.' She looked at Maurice and Gaston. 'My youngest, you know. Chip, his name is. He's a good boy. Henri, Louis, wake up!' She nudged two more cups out. 'Some of us spend a lot of time asleep, you know. It passes the time. Eventually it becomes a habit.' She sighed. 'Still, there's many people worse off. At least we've got each other.' She poured the two cups full of tea. 'I don't suppose you remember them, do you, my dear,' she said to Gaston. 'You and Louis used to play with each other when you were just little lads and you came with your Papa to sell game. He's just your age. We used to chase you both out of the kitchen because there's nothing like two small boys for getting under everyone's feet.' She gave him a sympathetic look. 'I'm sure you don't remember anything of it. It's part of the spell. Louis, give Jean-Luc his tea and stop standing there.'

A dark eyed teacup hopped over to her. Gaston stood abruptly, lips pressed in a thin line and stalked off. As they watched, he stumbled and caught himself on the edge of the staircase. They had become so accustomed to the surreal situation that it took Maurice a moment to work out what the matter was. It stirred a memory. The morning after they had rescued Belle from the castle, she had turned over their teacups in her hand, her eyes distant. Gesturing to Belle to stay by the fire, Maurice heaved himself to his feet and hurried over. As he approached behind the captain's back, he could hear the captain talking under his breath in an uninterrupted string of words. He drew nearer and the words resolved themselves into a stream of swearing.

He sighed and laid a hand gently on the taller man's shoulder. 'I know,' he said. 'I know.' He looked up at the man. His black hair fell untidily across his face and his eyes were burning. 'They'll be alright soon,' he promised.

'They're people. They're really people.' The shoulder beneath his hand rose and fell rapidly.

'I know,' Maurice said calmly, hoping to ride out the storm with reassuring air.

'He's the same age as me,' Gaston plunged on. 'He's been a cup for ten years. We were sixteen! Think about it. No arms, no legs, no, you know…anything.' He waved a hand expressively. 'For ten years!' Another thought seemed to occur to him. ' _Merde!_ He could have dropped. He could have smashed to pieces.' His hand shook uncontrollably and he clenched it on the stair rail to hide it.

'Sit down.'

'What?'

'Sit down.' Maurice settled himself on the staircase and indicated the spot beside him until the captain sat down next to him. From there they looked over the sea of servants.

'They're _all_ people.' Gaston repeated hoarsely.

'Yes.' He took in the gilded candlesticks, solid wooden coat-racks, tables and dressers, plates and cups and clocks who chattered to each other with desperate enthusiasm. He shook his head. 'I'm very sorry for them.'

'So am I,' Gaston answered. Maurice couldn't help glancing up in surprise and the captain intercepted the look. 'What? They're people, aren't they?' He scowled.

'I'm sorry….I thought that as a soldier you would find this - '

'- easy?' Gaston growled shifting restlessly away. 'They lost their _bodies_. There were some battles….' He glanced around quickly, turning to look over both shoulders as if searching for someone. Evidently he didn't see anyone. He frowned and took a deep breath. 'It's better to be dead,' he muttered. He swallowed hard. 'Where's Le Fou?'

'He's safe in our house,' Maurice reassured him. 'He's absolutely safe.' He saw some of the tension leave the younger man's face. 'He came on Mon Ami to find us but he hit his head on a sign. We left him to rest.'

'He rides like a sack of potatoes.' Gaston rubbed his head with the heel of his hand, leaving a trail of dirt. He looked more like a soldier than ever. 'Well, what's to be done? The… _he_ ,' he corrected himself, nodding towards Lumière, 'said you knew what to do.'

'We do, I think. I hope we'll have them free of the curse quite soon. Only one thing remains to be done.' Maurice assured him. 'As it turns out, your act of saving Agathe was key to the whole thing.'

'Agathe?' Gaston frowned again. He tore his eyes away from the servants to look at Maurice. 'She was by the gate. What does she have to do with anything?'

Maurice let out a breath of relief. 'I'm very glad she's still at the gate. I don't know if you heard her say she knew the secret to the castle?'

Gaston shook his head, struggling to remember. 'She _was_ talking about…something about the castle. Some secret trick she knew. The woman's clearly mad but it was important to get her out of that crowd.'

'You should be proud of what you did. She, er, she does know the secret apparently. She described the situation at the castle while we were riding over.' He shook his head. It seemed another great leap of the imagination for someone to believe in Agathe's powers. 'You must believe me; we _saw_ her raise those roses up the gate. You must have seen them as you came in. In fact,' he said carefully, 'she claims to have placed the curse in the first place and now she's willing to undo it.' He watched while this sank in.

'I sent you off with a witch?' He looked at Maurice as if begging him to say otherwise. 'I sent you two off with the witch who did this?' A muscle began to jump in his jaw and his eyes were lit with a growing irrationality. 'I should be proud of putting you in danger?'

Maurice laid a hand firmly onto his shoulder. 'No. _No_. It isn't something you should apologize for! You _didn't_ send us off. We were far more aware of what she said and we both chose to go with her. What's more, she told us what she was and we continued to ride with her.'

'No.' Gaston shook his head wildly again. 'No, _you_ chose to go with her. _I_ encouraged Belle to go. _I_ sent her off with the witch who did this.' He fixed Maurice with a look of appeal. 'If I'd have known, I would never….'

'I know,' Maurice told him gently. 'I know you wouldn't.'

'I wouldn't send her into danger,' Gaston rushed on as if he hadn't heard him. 'A witch could do anything. I'd defend her…keep her safe.'

'I think you would,' Maurice acknowledged honestly. 'I'm sure you would never allow your friends to come to any harm if you could prevent it. I did ask you not to take your anger out on your friends, earlier,' he said regretfully. 'I spoke out of anger and I apologize for my words. This is the second time this week that you've come to our rescue. Tell me - why did you come here?

'You were only supposed to get her out of town and come back with the horses. I was listening. When you didn't come back…,' he stumbled over the words and shook his black mane of hair. 'When I remembered she'd been saying something about the castle…'

'You came to find us,' Maurice finished. 'You were concerned?' Gaston nodded and touched a hand to his brow to wipe away a fine layer of sweat. He was concerned. Concerned enough to get up in the middle of the night, injured and weak, and ride a couple of hours to a castle inhabited by a monster, for all he knew. _I seem to have acquired a son._

'You realize, don't you, that she feels the same?' He glanced over to see Belle looking anxiously their way. 'She's equally concerned for you being in danger. I can't tell you not to be worried, of course. I _can_ suggest you both try to value each other's independent spirit.' He kept a steady hand on the man's shoulder. 'The one thing which you did tonight which angered me was - forgive me if this sounds ungrateful in the light of all your efforts to save us - was to express the idea that my daughter owed you something more than thanks.' He fixed the younger man with a mild but steady gaze. 'You'll understand when you have children of your own. Imagine you had a daughter both brave and kind; a girl who lights up a room when she comes in; a brave, clever daughter whom you love to talk to. Now if you can picture that, imagine another man demanding your daughter's obedience.' He watched Gaston grapple with that idea.

'No. No. He wouldn't have the right,' Gaston snapped without thinking. 'Not over _my_ child.'

'A husband does, of course. Naturally, many marriages are more equal but I've seen many men who…expect to be obeyed. Is that what you would choose?'

Gaston dropped his head into his hands. 'Not for my child,' he repeated.

'And not for mine either,' Maurice said so decisively that Gaston looked up, genuinely startled by his tone. _Am I doing the right thing here?_ Maurice wondered. _Is this right for Belle? Is this right for him, too? Would he be happier with a wife who hung on his every word?_ Left alone, Gaston would continue to be undoubtedly arrogant, proud, brutal and brave. _But we both quarreled with him and he still dragged himself out here tonight out of concern for us._ 'Perhaps you should let Belle know that you came here because you were anxious about her.'

'She already knows, doesn't she?'

'I'm sure she'd appreciate hearing it a little more directly. Strangely enough, "I thought you might need a hero" don't have quite the same meaning as, "I was worried so I came to find you." I know which she'd prefer to hear.' He coughed. 'I really could do with a cup of tea if you have no objections. I'll be very careful with them. Do you want to come back to the fire?'

Gaston eyed the pathway to the fire. It was strewn with servants, large and small. 'No. I'll…stay here. You and Belle, you're neat and careful. I'm used to being outside,' he said with an attempted grin.

'Wrestling bears, I'm sure,' Maurice said with a smile. 'Well, I won't be more than a minute or two.' He couldn't keep up the smile as he turned away. Gaston moved like a cat. A few nights ago, he had been leaping from the bar to a table top. _Injured, unsteady and too proud to admit it. I have to look after him._ Before he went back to Belle, he stopped to talk to Madame le Garderobe and Lumière with a couple of requests.

'Thank you very much.' He carefully accepted a cup of tea from Mrs. Potts. 'Are you almost ready, Belle? We'll try the library next. I hope this convinces him.'

Belle wasn't distracted. 'What's wrong? Is he angry with us, Papa?'

'No, not at all,' he assured her. 'He was…using some rather military language at the spell which caused this and he didn't want you,' his look took in Belle, Mrs. Potts and her children, 'to hear that.

'Oh, I don't mind that,' Belle told him promptly and rather unexpectedly.

'I… _ah_ , - '

'- I wouldn't use it, of course,' she assured him. 'I just think it makes sense to be angry about this. It's so _unfair_.'

'It is,' he said. He looked at Mrs. Potts and the young teacups. 'Deeply unfair. I agree with both of you on that. And there are rather a lot of delicate people here whom he didn't want to accidentally knock over so he said he would stay there.'

'He doesn't need to be afraid of hurting us,' Mrs. Potts said cheerfully. 'We're stronger than we look.'

'Oh. Oh, that's kind,' Belle decided. She looked over at Gaston, sitting slouched on the stairs. 'Would you mind if I left you here for a few minutes, Papa?'

'No, you go, my dear. I'll join you in a minute.'

She smiled at him and hurried over to the captain. Maurice picked up the proffered cup of tea gratefully with a word of thanks. _Oh Helene_. _Falling in love with you was as easy as stepping through a doorway to a familiar house. Why should it be so much harder for our daughter?_ He thought about the books Belle liked to read. He had picked up a few and browsed through them. Was this an ill-fated romance or love despite all odds? He frowned at himself. This was no way for a rational man to think.

'I think it's charming.' Mrs. Potts broke into his thoughts.

'I beg your pardon?' Maurice had forgotten for a moment that she was there. He sipped the hot tea.

'The two of them. Young love.' She sighed romantically.

'They argue,' Maurice confided, curious to hear a mother's opinion. 'You don't think I should discourage…'

She laughed. 'I expect there's a bit of fire in both of them. There's arguing and arguing, of course, but she seems like a young lady who knows her own mind.'

'She certainly does. She's very much her mother's daughter.' He closed his eyes for a moment. 'I was very privileged in my wife. She was an exceptional lady - and my dearest friend.' He set Henri the teacup down very carefully on her cart and took a deep breath. 'Thank you for the tea. We must be off now.' It took him a few minutes to find the candlestick in the crowd of servants. Eventually he spotted a flash of gold and Monsieur Lumière leaning comfortably against a table leg, holding forth about his plans for the future to the dour clock, his arms waving expressively. 'Monsieur Lumière? Is this a convenient time?' They made their way over to the young pair sitting on the stairs. 'Are you ready for a final effort?' They headed up the great staircase, Lumière in the lead. 'Now, Agathe is just waiting for the Prince - that is, the Beast - to come out with us and she promised to break the spell. This is the chance we have of saving them!'

'We can't trust her,' Gaston retorted immediately.

'That's _exactly_ what the Prince said when we spoke to him.' Maurice ran his hand through his thinning hair. 'Which is why he's not coming out. Unfortunately, he seems to be the main object of her spell. He has to come out, bringing with him a rose - '

' - I'll break his door down and drag him out - '

' - of his own free will.'

'What's your plan?'

'We're going to find the library - ' Belle began.

Gaston groaned.

'- and we're going to find out his real name. No one knows what it is. If we can persuade him that his name isn't lost, I think he might come out.'

'Couldn't you just….talk to him? You're very good at talking.'

'Oh, thank you. Um, yes, that would be a great idea.' She sighed. 'Except we've tried it at least twice and he hasn't listened and he's ignoring everyone else.'

'So you're going to find a book and then talk to him? How is that going to work?'

'Essentially, yes. But we're talking legal records here. Oh, is this it?'

Lumière flung open the doors. 'The library!' he announced. He scurried over to light candelabras and the great fire at the far end of the room.

'It's wonderful!' Belle breathed. Books stretched above them and around them, as far as the eye could see, shelf after shelf stretching up to the ceiling, shadowy towards the high ceiling. 'Look at all these books! I've never seen so many books! Oh, Gaston, Papa, isn't it amazing?' She grabbed both men by the hand and pulled them forward.

'It's magnificent,' Maurice agreed reverentially. He gave Gaston a meaningful glance and a firm nod. _Say something nice about the books_.

'It's huge,' Gaston surveyed the room.

'Isn't it wonderful?' Belle swung around to face him, her face bright. 'Have you ever seen anything so….inspiring?'

'Yes,' he said, his eyes fixed firmly on her.

She blushed uncertainly. 'Do you mean….the books? You know I like books.'

'They're not the most important thing in the world, are they?' The air between them almost burned with intensity.

She shook her head. 'Books and cleverness are important. They're very important to me. But there _are_ more important things – friendship and bravery.' Her eyes were locked onto his. 'Don't you agree?'

'Friendship and bravery,' he repeated. 'And family.' They reached out for each other's hands at the same time, drawing gradually closer and closer to each other.

Lumière coughed. 'Mademoiselle. Messieurs. Is there anything else you require?'

Belle freed herself, face lit like a rose. 'We have to find the right books,' she said with some determination. She turned to the nearest shelf and looked back over her shoulder. 'You can help me if you like.'

In a short space of time, books were piled on the floor. She looked at them with satisfaction. 'We'll start with these. They seem to be the best records.'

'Belle', Maurice said firmly, 'take these and go and sit by the window.' He handed her a stack of books.

'But the light's better over here,' she said, puzzled. 'Is there a reason I can't sit by the fire?'

Maurice picked up a candelabra and took it over a table facing out of a large window. 'Not right now, my dear, thank you.' He saw Belle exchange confused looks with Gaston but she followed him obediently to the window and flipped open the first book.

'And what are you going to do while I'm working on this?' She looked over her shoulder at them. 'Don't you need books too? You can take some of this stack.'

'Not right now, thank you,' he repeated. He took Gaston by the shoulder. 'You, my boy, are going to come to the fire, take off your coat and shirt and let me re-dress that cut.' Belle turned back to the window, bending her head over her book, the tips of her ears going red.

Gaston gave him a disbelieving look. 'It doesn't need it. It's fine,' he argued.

Maurice pulled him gently towards the fire. 'Come on,' he told him, 'this will only take a few minutes. I would feel happier if it were done.' He pulled the clean cloths Madame le Garderobe had given him out of his pocket and drew up a couple of chairs to the fire. He read the captain's expression. 'She's busy with the books,' he assured him in an undertone.

Gaston half turned to look around. Belle was still doing an excellent impression of a student lost in an engaging book. 'Alright, then,' he agreed. He stripped off the muddy coat and torn shirt, dropped them on the floor and sat down by the fire, rubbing his arms briskly to get some warmth back into them.

'Give those to me.' Maurice hung them neatly over the back of a chair by the fire to warm. He surveyed the bandage wrapped around Gaston's muscular chest. 'Yes, that's opened up again.' He unwound the soaked bandage carefully and dropped it into the fire where it sizzled. 'Ah, thank you very much.' Lumière came up, arms wrapped around two cups. Maurice handed the tea directly the captain. 'Here you are. A cup that always _has_ been a cup,' he said with a faint smile. He set the water down on the floor and dipped the cloth in it. 'Keep still,' he enjoined as he cleaned through the thick, blood matted hair and carefully down to the open wound. He noticed the flicker in Gaston's expression as he swabbed out the slash across his ribs. 'Does that hurt?' Gaston shook his head. Maurice looked up at his over his spectacles. He considered the phrasing carefully. 'Would it be an inconvenience if you were hunting?'

'It might,' Gaston admitted cautiously. He flexed his arm experimentally and the pain flashed across his face. 'But it's nothing,' he added.

Maurice sighed and felt the ribs again. 'I'm sorry to say it might be a cracked rib but I'm sure you'll recover soon enough. Let me just wrap this up. This might be a bit uncomfortable, I'm afraid. I'm going to wrap it quite tightly.' He picked up the second cloth. 'Not the first scratch and scrape you've had, by the looks of it,' he said in a quiet, conversational tone.

'Oh, fighting for _La Belle France_ , you know.' Gaston shrugged and winced at the movement.

'What about this?' Maurice gently tapped a ring of bruises which encircled Gaston's arm.

'That Beast we're trying to save,' Gaston grumbled. He gave the bruise an irritated look. 'I can't believe we're doing this for him.'

'I didn't think you were,' Maurice said dryly.

'I'm not,' Gaston admitted freely. He thought about the matter a little longer. 'I still think he'd come out of his own free will if you set fire to his door, though.' He pulled his shirt back on. 'Thank you, Maurice.'

Maurice patted him on the shoulder by way of acknowledgement. 'Try not to make it any worse before we get back.'

'Hah!' He pulled on his coat. 'Nothing stops me.'

Maurice sighed. _I'm beginning to think a stake through the heart and being buried under a cross road wouldn't do it_. 'How about a book? Belle, would you like to work over here with some of those books?'

'Coming, Papa.' She scooped up the stack and deposited them on the table by the fire.

'A book?' Gaston gave the pile of records a disapproving look, slouching deeper into his chair, long legs stretched out towards the fire. 'At least it's a practical one.' Belle handed him one wordlessly and he flicked it open. 'What are we looking for?'

'Some mention of who he is or who his family were.' She skimmed through the pages of another book. 'Oh, this is fascinating. It's all about the history of the churches around here.'

'Belle…' Maurice warned. 'Agathe and the horses are waiting outside.'

'Oh, yes.' She set the book aside and began to fly through another. Maurice took one for himself. For a while they sat there, peaceably reading while the fire crackled and outside the wind rattled against the panes.


	14. Chapter 14 The Rose

'Right,' Belle slammed the book shut and stood up. 'I think that's all we need. Let's go and find him!' Her chin was set. If it came down to a pure battle of wills, Maurice was fairly certain the Prince would lose. Her mother had had that look, too.

Gaston set down his own book on the table and stretched, looking reasonably revived. 'So we're going to find him and you're going to tell him about a book,' he said with disbelief.

'Yes.' Belle looked around the room longingly for a final time. Row upon row of books stretched around them and above them. She tucked one of the books under her arm. 'I'll just take this. The rest I know now. Are you both coming?'

Maurice nodded and stood up. 'We should put out the fire if we're not coming back. I'll just give Monsieur Lumière a call…'

'Don't bother.' Gaston stamped heavily on the fire with a booted foot leaving it smoldering into smoky ashes that made them cough. 'Alright, let's go now.'

The first obstacle they encountered was one, Maurice realized, they should have foreseen. The Prince had closed and barred the door to the West Wing, probably barricading it with furniture. Even Gaston and the heavily built Madame Le Garderobe working together couldn't shoulder it open despite denting the wood with their blows. From behind the doors, they heard a muffled growl.

'There is another way in,' a doleful voice from behind them said. 'If you think it's possible.' Monsieur Cogsworth pointed them towards another flight of stairs. 'It's definitely dangerous, though,' he told them. 'You can climb down from the balcony above _if_ you dare. But it probably won't do any good,' he sighed. 'He'll never agree to come out.'

They trekked along the corridor towards the higher balcony. It was obviously another part of the castle which had suffered some damage and, like most of the castle, freezing cold. Maurice shivered. Furniture, finer than any he had seen even in his better days as a Parisian merchant, was cast aside through the corridor, flung in careless heaps as if victims of a terrible rage.

Gaston surveyed the corridor grimly. 'If he causes any trouble, I'll have his head for the tavern wall,' he promised. He strode forward.

No!' Belle sounded horrified, hurrying to catch up with him. 'You can't do that. He's a person! Besides, he's not as bad as you think.'

'Ah, Belle.' Gaston sighed. 'You have such a sweet nature. So gentle. So truly feminine.' He stumbled and nearly fell over.

'Maybe you should spend a bit less time admiring my personality and a bit more watching out where we're going,' Belle said. Relenting, she fell back a pace and laid her hand on his arm, looking up at him. 'But it's _good_ to rescue people. Haven't you ever rescued anyone? I'm sure you have.'

'Why, of course. Did you know I once rescued five horses and men from drowning in a river? The river was raging but I jumped in without a thought for my life, grabbed each one by the reins and led them out up the bank. No-one could believe it,' he told them without a scrap of modesty.

'That's wonderful,' she said. 'Um, I'm glad you rescued them but…shouldn't you try and tell the story another way,' she suggested gently. 'You know, something like, "I was very lucky and my friends helped me from the bank?"'

'A man's a fool if he runs himself down for no reason. There's enough people in the world ready to do that.'

'I'm sorry but it….sounds like boasting.' She glanced up at him.

'It's not boasting if it's true.' He climbed over an overturned table and helped her up, glancing behind to make sure Maurice could scramble over it. 'It's only boasting if you can't back it up. If a thing's true -' he kicked a stool aside, '- then it would be lying to say anything else.'

'Well, yes.' She frowned. 'I see what you mean. I understand. I just think there's a line we have to tread sometimes. If everyone did that, it…wouldn't be easy to see who was honest, would it?'

'You can trust me to be honest, Belle.'

'Even when you're telling me how wonderful you are?'

' _Especially_ when I'm telling you how wonderful I am. It's all true.'

This roused her spirit. 'Alright then,' she threw a challenge at him, eyes sparkling as she met the test. 'Tell me another time when you helped someone. It's nice to hear about people helping other people,' she said.

'There's so much to choose from.' He studied the ceiling for a moment. 'St Martin. I saved the people from a vicious boar who was ravening the forests and killed their best hunter.' The tale kept them occupied for the rest of their walk. Watching from behind, Maurice was amused as much by Gaston's ability as a story teller as the story itself. He really couldn't talk without using his hands. Having Belle's hand on his arm hindered him as he ducked, dodged and gestured expressively but he didn't let go. Belle did roll her eyes a little, Maurice saw, but her whole face was alight with interest and a few times she laughed aloud or gasped.

When they reached the balcony, Gaston demonstrated another of his skills. Taking the long rope Madame Le Garderobe had obligingly provided them with, he expertly knotted one end around the stonework, leaned his weight back against it to test it and flung the other end off the balcony.

'I'll go first,' he offered.

'No, let me,' Maurice protested. 'He's seen me before.' Turning around, they saw Belle disappearing down the rope, having ignored both of them.

'Belle!' Gaston grabbed the rope and vaulted off the balcony.

When Maurice made his way more cautiously down the rope he saw the other two staring transfixed at a rose which impossibly _hovered_ on thin air inside a delicate glass cover. It glowed scarlet against the darkness of the night.

'It's the rose!' Belle whispered unnecessarily. 'We're almost there!' She choked back a cry as the Beast loomed up from out of the shadows, teeth bared in a snarl.

'Get away from it!' he snapped and glared fiercely at them. 'More trespassers, I see,' he added eyeing Gaston as they took a few paces away. 'Didn't I tell you never to come here again?'

'I'm not here for you,' Gaston snapped back, rubbing his chest as if it pained him.

The Beast stared at him in incomprehension. 'Then why are you here?'

'For everyone else, of course,' Belle stepped in. 'He likes helping people,' she added in the face of the Gaston's scowl.

'Everyone else?' The Beast tilted his head and stared at her. 'What are you talking about?'

'All the other people who are here,' she said firmly. 'We've spent at least an hour at the bottom of a well.'

The Beast blinked uncertainly at the apparent non sequitur, completely taken aback. 'Why?'

'To get a little girl out. She's been down there for _years_ ,' she said. 'Can you image what that was like for her?' She rounded on him, half his height but suddenly twice his determination. 'Why didn't _you_ do anything?'

'Me?' The Beast retreated a pace.

'Yes, you. You've got arms and legs, haven't you? I think you should apologize to her when you see her. Her name's Marie and she's currently a bucket.'

'I'm sorry,' he rumbled. 'I didn't know…'

'You should have known,' she said inexorably. 'You should have made it your business to know where everyone was. You're responsible for people, aren't you?' She waited. 'Well, aren't you?'

'Yes…' he admitted uncertainly.

'Well, come and prove it! Everyone's waiting out there for you to come out so they can be human again.'

'The witch's trick,' he snarled and turned away impatiently. 'So she's still waiting to do more harm to us? I told you before, _I will not trust her_ _with our lives_ , _'_ he roared, swiping at the air with his claws.

'Are you afraid?' she asked seriously.

'Afraid?' He towered over her. Gaston took a step sideways in front of her to block him but Belle dodged around him and stood toe to toe with the Beast. She looked fearless. Only Maurice, knowing her better than any others, saw how well she hid her fright. There was a tinge of paleness in her face and the flutter of her throat betrayed a racing pulse.

'You can't be afraid of her,' she told him. 'You have to try this. You have responsibilities to live up to. Everyone else wants to try and it's all or nothing, sorry. You have to do this for them. They have friends and families!'

'Let them go to her, then. Surely she'll turn them back if she's as _merciful_ as you think. Let their friends and families beg her to spare them. I have no-one. I'm a Beast and nothing more. You know nothing of me. My name has been forgotten.' His voice shook and he turned away, hunching his great shoulders.

'Your name is Adam,' Belle told him.

'What?'

'Adam, Prince of Altmontagne-sur-Vironde, Comte de la Rèmoille, Marquis de Chartreville et Meuille, Vicomte de Lereigne-Lillebonne, Seigneur de de Centîlle, Chatelaine de Villeneuve et de Placevielle. This castle was first built in nearly six hundred years ago with money given to your ancestor, Charles de Centîlle as a reward for faithful service. Your father was Prince Henri, his father was Prince Louis, _his_ father was Prince Louis, his father was Prince Claude…

He held up a hand gently to stop her. 'You know,' he whispered, staring at her. 'You know somehow. Can it be true? These things aren't forgotten?'

'It's in the record books in your library.' She held the book she was carrying out to him. 'Here, take it and see. The spell might have made everyone forgot your name but it's written here at the end. She turned the pages again, 'and at the beginning. Look, someone wrote your name in pencil to show it was yours. Did you do it?'

The Prince took the book gently, cradling it in his huge paws. He bent over the inscription on the flyleaf. 'No,' he said hoarsely. 'No. This was…my mother's writing. I recognize it. She gave me this.' A tear rolled down his fur and he reached up hastily to brush it away before it could fall on the treasured book. He looked down on her with a gratitude in his eyes that they hadn't seen before. 'I haven't seen this for a long time. You couldn't have brought anything which meant more to me.' He closed the cover carefully, caressing it with a paw.

'I'm sure you have friends and family too,' Belle said softly. 'Why don't we go out? If she lifts the spell, you can go and see them again.'

'My family are dead,' he said bitterly. 'As for my friends….they were friends only with my money.' He buried his face in his paws. 'I'm afraid I wasn't much of a true friend to them either,' he confessed.

'You don't know that,' she said. 'Everyone can make mistakes. You know the spell stops them from remembering you. I'm _sure_ they'll be happy to see you again. And this time you can show them what you're really like.'

He lifted his head. 'Do you really think so?'

'I'm sure they will! And you'll be able to see all the people who work here again properly. I think you must have known some of them for years. Mrs. Potts -' she broke off.

'I beg your pardon?' he said. 'Mrs. Potts….?'

'Well, she said you were always stubborn,' she admitted. 'In a good way, I'm sure. I mean, _I'm_ stubborn, I think, wouldn't you say so, Papa?' And Gaston is too.' She turned and gave him a quick smile. 'Which is good for rescuing people.'

'Call it determined,' Gaston put in. He shifted his weight impatiently from foot to foot.

'Determined, then,' Belle agreed. 'It's a good thing. What I meant was that that you must have known some people here for years,' she said earnestly. 'You won't be alone.'

He shook his horned head, monstrous shadows swaying on the walls. 'How much loyalty do you think they have toward the man who caused them to be cursed? How long do you think they'll stay?' He grimaced. 'One way or another, I _will_ be alone.'

'Is that an argument against breaking the curse? That you won't have people trapped in your castle with you? You can't mean that,' she implored him.

The Prince looked aghast. 'No. No, I'm not quite so selfish. I will be alone, though,' he sighed. 'How could anyone look up to me after seeing me as this?' He hesitated, took a step towards the rose and stood looking at it in silence for a few moments. 'I'll do it,' he agreed. 'But I wish I had broken it by my own efforts.' He squared his shoulders and lifted the rose inside its delicate glass dome. 'I'll bring it to her,' he said.

They turned and surveyed the corridor. The doorway to the main halls was barricaded with furniture. 'Oh.' He tried to set the rose back down and the table shuffled away. Maurice and Gaston exchanged looks.

Belle tilted her head to one side and regarded the table. 'Are you human? If you are, you'd better follow us when we leave.' She turned to the Prince. 'Can you give it to my father to hold? We'll help you move the furniture.'

'I'll trust _you_ with it,' the Prince said reluctantly. He carefully passed it to her. 'I'll move all of this by myself.' He tugged at a piled up heap of chairs until the wood creaked and cracked. 'Consider it my penance.'

'Let me help,' Maurice took the chairs and shifted them to the side, working with the Prince to clear the heap. 'It's very high,' he said mildly. Under the pressure of his example, Gaston joined them. Together they pulled at the heap of tables and chairs which blocked the door.

As they worked, the Prince stole sidelong looks at Maurice out of thoroughly human blue eyes. Eventually, he came out with it. 'I believe I owe you an apology,' he confessed. 'For my earlier behavior.'

'Think nothing of it,' Maurice assured him. 'If we can succeed in saving everyone here, all of this will have been well worth it.' He was anxious to get the Prince away from the topic. He still hadn't told Gaston the truth about his original captivity and this didn't seem like the best moment.

'But I was a beast!'

'You still are,' Gaston reminded him, wedging a foot under a small table and levering it loose. The table came crashing down the heap. Belle stood well back, cradling the rose.

'It's true,' he agreed sadly. 'I still am. But not, I hope, the beast I was before.'

By the time the barricade was cleared, all three men were sweating slightly. The Prince flung open the doors to reveal a hall full of servants. As they stepped through, the servants gave a deafening cheer. The Prince flushed a fiery red through his fur, eyes downcast.

The next half hour passed in a frenzy of activity, counting and aching muscles. The chef was wheeled out of the castle and down the causeway on logs with the stronger men - which by default were the two heavy gargoyles, the Beast and Gaston - carrying them from front to back to make a rolling track. The senior servants counted and recounted heads as they processed out of the castle. Tables and chairs bounced and skittered down the steps to be caught and set upright by those with hands. Marie, the little bucket, was swinging merrily on the arms of a coatrack. The castle emptied of living beings. At the last minute, somebody remembered the stables and more hands were needed to haul out the heavy carriages which were once grooms, stable boys and horses. A little footstool ran amongst them, barking in excitement.

As they neared the gate, the roses twining up it flexed, took hold of the wrought ironwork and stretched the gates apart. Maurice handed the rose back to the Prince. Alone, ahead of the crowd of servants, he walked through the gate. On the other side Agathe stood waiting. There was no sign of her power. Her clothes were the simple brown homespun she habitually wore on the streets of Villeneuve. Holding the rose in both hands, the Prince walked up to her. He knelt before her and bowed his head stiffly, pride fighting against a natural gentility that lent him graciousness in defeat.

'Madame.' He held up the rose towards her. 'I have come to ask forgiveness for my behavior towards you.' He lowered his eyes. 'I was justly punished for my pride and arrogance. I come to…to beg of you to restore us to their natural forms. I swear to you that no man, woman or child who comes to me will be turned away again.'

'I set you to learn true love. In nearly ten years, you failed to do that.'

'That is true,' he acknowledged sadly. 'I didn't find true love. Instead, I learned sadness and repentance. For the sake of these things, would you undo the curse on us?'

She studied him with eyes as old as starlight. 'I, too, learned a lesson in unasked kindness. Yes, I will restore you and your people.' She fixed him with a piercing stare. 'But there is a price to be paid. You did not truly earn this forgiveness by my terms and the work done tonight has not been by your hands. Are you willing to cast away all that remains of your pride and arrogance? To be truly humble for the rest of your life?'

'Yes! I promise you I will,' he said earnestly. 'My pride has only ever brought harm.'

She reached down and lifted the glass cover from the rose. Taking the rose into her hands, she whispered to it gently. Around her hands a golden glow grew and spread. Tiny sparkling flecks of gold blew out as she breathed words to the rose, drifting on the night air. They fell on the fur of the Prince, giving him a golden coat. They glittered in the air and drifted onto the crowd of servants gathered around him. Those with hands reached up, mesmerized by the sparks that fell like gold dust onto them. Others raised their eyes, tilting their sides to allow the delicate flakes to fall onto them. When the air was shimmering with a golden haze, she spoke one final word. Inside the haze, bodies stretched or shrunk, twisted and straightened, stumbled against each other and cried out at the wonder of feeling a human hand again. As the golden glow dissipated, men, women, children, dogs and horses stood up straight again, crying with joy. Amongst them, closest to the rose, a young, golden haired man rose to his feet, stunned with disbelief, staring down at human hands with fading doubt and growing delight.

Agathe stepped back a pace into the shadow of the trees, smiling an enigmatic smile at the jubilant crowd. Maurice was beaming from ear to ear. He glanced sideways. Belle was glowing with delight, eyes sparkling with happiness. Beside her, Gaston was squinting at them in amazement and disbelief, one hand running through his hair, his distrust of sorcery still apparent. Maurice looked back at the crowd. It was wonderful, truly wonderful! There was Mrs. Potts, clasping her children to her so tightly they could hardly breathe, that neatly dressed man there must be Monsieur Cogsworth with the bushy moustache, little Marie had been in the centre of the crowd so that must be - yes, there was a little girl, being set down carefully on the ground by a tall, thin individual. Lumière must be the debonair man with a familiar twinkle in his eye embracing not only Cogsworth but also an astoundingly beautiful lady all dressed in white. All around them, men, women and children were clasping each other in their arms, kissing each other on both cheeks, laughing and crying. A few were simply standing there, overwhelmed, running hands over their faces to reassure themselves before others caught their hands and pulled them into a hug. Some made their way up to the prince to kiss his hand and congratulate him on their freedom from the curse. A little dog ran about their heels, yapping with excitement and horses - beautiful, glossy horses in perfect condition - tossed their manes and neighed to their new friends. In the middle of laughter and shouts of joy, the first noises went unheard. It was only when a man at the back of the crowd looked around and suddenly yelled out in terror that they saw it. The castle was cracking and crumbling as they watched.

 **Thanks for the reviews! I really appreciate them.**

 **The titles in this chapter are entirely fictional and have no relationship to genuine titles or places.**


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